splinters of my soul
by Kalisca
Summary: Dorian is a medium and psychic owning a small shop in Montreal, Canada. He's content with his life until the Police requests his help for a missing boy and he meets Commander Rutherford.
1. Christmas doesn't come from a store

**This is my Christmas gift for all Cullrian fans! Even if you don't celebrate on the 25th, I hope you're having happy holidays. It hadn't felt much like the holidays for me, without any snow where I live and no family to celebrate with, but I balance things out by eating lots of junk food and playing video games.**

 **Title is taken from a quote by Dr. Seuss.**

 **Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store**

Dorian woke up to the voices of children singing Christmas songs outside. It was that time of the year again. He groaned and fumbled around to find his cellphone through his pillows. When he did, it took him a few more seconds before he squeezed his eyes open to see what time it was. A barely acceptable hour to be this happy, that's what time it was.

A kid laughed when another one sang the wrong lyrics. He normally didn't mind, but not when he'd fell asleep two hours earlier. He shifted on his stomach while browsing his social media with blurred eyes, not even bothering with putting on his glasses. He had a reminder for two appointments today, but they were only this afternoon.

His sixth sense suddenly kicked in, telling him he wasn't alone in his bedroom anymore. He sighed in annoyance, ready to dismiss whoever or whatever was disturbing him, but when he spread his powers in search of the entity, he was met with a familiar presence.

He glanced behind his shoulder, and sure enough, Felix was seated at the end of the bed, reading a book.

"You're here early," he told him, sliding his glasses on. He threw the covers away and finally got up from bed, knowing he wouldn't get any more sleep with Felix around. He made his way to the kitchen to start his coffee maker. Felix leaned against the counter, sans book, and they stared at each other in the silence punctured by the coffee brewing and dropping in the pot.

"I don't understand why you keep coming here, Felix," Dorian scratched a spot above his left ear. "Is it because of your father?"

No reply. Felix continued to look at him, face ashy as his body glimmered.

"Did you check on him? He's married again now, has been for a few years. He's moving on, yet here you still are."

He turned to prepare a well-needed cup of coffee, adding just a spoon of sugar small black pool. He felt Felix' presence go away, but he always stayed close. Dorian needed to answer some emails, then go downstairs to open his shop.

Felix appeared to Dorian at random times and liked to just be nearby and read or sit beside him when he watched Youtube videos. Dorian didn't really know why he haunted him. It'd been like that ever since his death a few years ago. It wasn't even about giving a message, because Dorian tried to communicate with him and he still wouldn't say anything. Ghosts were weird sometimes. He was used to more dreadful apparitions, however, so he didn't really mind the ghost of his dead best friend to hang around him.

Once he was ready, he went downstairs to his shop, the Black Emporium, to open. He was selling some incents, books and tarot decks, but it was mainly to do séances with his customers. They whether called for an appointment or came in after stumbling on his shop, mostly hidden through the midst of Montreal's downtown. It was a good spot; he was close to about six different coffee shops, including the Tim Hortons Canadians loved so much. (The holiday's ginger molasses' cookies were delightful, he had to admit.)

He brought his computer down with him, intending on polishing his website for once the holidays were over and he could remove those hideous garlands from the background. It was to appeal to the customers, he kept telling himself, but he hated it.

Dorian hated December. The decorations, the trees, the high spirit, all things he loathed. Those who decided to dedicate a whole month to happiness and thankfulness and all that crap probably had huge families to spend cold nights with, eating and laughing together while giving each other gifts wrapped with love; something he never had. His parents would sometimes try to contact him, but not to tell him they loved him, he didn't even remember if they ever sputtered those three words at him. No, they called to try to convince him to return "home" so he could continue their legacy, but he refused. He refused to be someone he was not and waste his happiness for his parents' decisions of having only one child, and if that meant he was a selfish man, so be it.

Christmas time always brought back memories of his family, how he never had any real love from them. At least he had his friends and his cat – and even then, Snoufleur usually hid from him during the day and only came back for food.

The first customer of the day came in early, a Qunari with bright purple hair framed by horns, all decorated with silver ornaments. It suited her aura. It wasn't the first time she was coming to see him, she liked to take an appointment every few months after he'd helped her settle down in the city. She was an immigrant like him and had no idea what to do at first, now that she had so many opportunities, hence the reason she needed the help of a psychic.

"Hello, Adaar."

"Good day, Dorian." Despite her height, her movements were graceful as she removed her coat and leaned down to kiss his cheeks. A kiss for each cheek, the commodity here. "How have you been?"

"Good, thank you. Congratulations on your new job, darling."

There was a second of confusion on Adaar's face before a grin appeared. She hadn't told him about it yet.

"Thank you, but I have so many questions I need answers to."

There was a coffee maker beside the intimate area where he did his readings or séances, and he prepared her a coffee with lots of cream and sugar. He brought it to the table where they sat down. Adaar liked to have the tarot cards read to her, even though Dorian didn't need them to know what she wanted to hear. Many thoughts and images circled around her, coming from her conscious and unconscious, and he was like a magnet, catching some of them; glimpses of memories and what ifs. Touching the person always helped, but it wasn't necessary. That took energy from Dorian, and some people drained Dorian more than some others, leaving him raw and vulnerable and in great need of a nap.

Adaar was like that. Reading her sucked Dorian dry, made him oversensitive and dizzy. He had to lay down once she left, not even remembering everything he told her. He found out she left him a big tip once he came back from his slumber, later in the afternoon.

The other appointment was in the evening, and so he had some time left for Christmas errands. The man on the phone had been uncomfortable, clearly his first time doing any business with a medium and psychic, but Dorian was used to it and the stigmatisation related to his work. Not every claimed medium was a real one, making his profession almost a laughing one, and he admitted it made things very difficult at first when he started his business.

He tried to have a normal job when he first arrived in Canada, he really did. He worked in retail, using his charms to make good commissions, but after a while he had to block his powers, for it became overwhelming, hit by thousands of thoughts and emotions every day, and he wasn't talking about the ghosts. It was too much in the end, and he refused to ignore abilities he was born with.

At that point, he was friends with one of his coworkers, Sera, who introduced him to her friends by inviting him at one of Josephine's parties. He'd do sessions with them, bring his tarot cards sometimes if they hung out at someone's place. He didn't ask for money, but one day, after another of his friends thanked him for his predictions, it just clicked. Why not make it a profession?

He kept his job in retail and began doing those phone calls to help people. It quickly became enough for him to quit his horrendous job. Of course some people tried to use his line for phone sex, which made him laugh. He'd let them talk, knowing they were spending 3 dollars per minute.

He'd rented space in a building before finding his little downtown gem, and now here he was, able to maintain his budget with ease and keep the schedule he wanted.

He needed to make a few errands, including buying cat food for Snoufleur who'd hate him even more if he was to not feed her. He put on his thick coat with his wool scarf and leather gloves before stepping outside, glad for the insulation he had. It was freezing, the kind of temperature where his nostrils stuck together if he stayed outside for too long. At least the snow was pretty to look at, if it wasn't turned to brown slush. He hurried to the subway, breathing through his scarf. His moustache was beginning to freeze when he reached the station.

He kept on listening to his music while shopping, tuning the rest away. He hated buying Christmas gifts, he wasn't even Christian, but he liked his friends and if giving them gifts meant making them happy only for a little while, he could indulge them. He guessed he'd become one of those cheesy people now, curse the December spirit. Maybe Christmas didn't mean buying from the stores, after all. He even bought treats for his cat before making his way back home.

He was in the metro when he had a bad feeling twisting his guts, and it wasn't the barely visible ghosts always lurking in the undergrounds. He turned his music off without removing his headphones and moved a bit so he could discreetly watch the other passengers from his place. His eyes swiped the mostly empty cart, and there he was. The creeper, looking just like anyone else except for the darkness seeping from him. He had done this a dozen times before, choosing his victim – a young woman focused on her phone or too tired to notice him, and sitting beside them, to stare at them and molest them, even following them when they'd leave the subway. Dorian tasted bile in his mouth at this human's thoughts, sinister and excited with the appeal of the chase.

He had chosen his victim, a pretty elf returning home after a long day at work. She was falling in and out of sleep, and that was exactly what the man wanted.

Dorian would have none of it. Before the creeper could sit beside the elf, he stepped in and slid in the seat, looking straight into his eyes. He'd dealt with worse scum, his dad included, a molester wouldn't scare him.

The elf, Merrill, had woken up. She looked confused that he'd sit beside her with so many empty seats, so he smiled at her and opened his note application on his phone to quickly type a message warning her of the man. She looked over and frowned. She didn't have his abilities, but could feel that he didn't mean her well.

Which station are you stopping? He typed away.

Not this one, but the next one, she replied.

I'll walk you home, if you don't mind.

She turned to him and nodded, relief in her eyes. He caught an image of her being harassed by two men in a dark alley and hiding in a shop.

"Thank you," she quietly said.

"Don't mention it."

He used the remaining time to focus on the man, noting his name and address so he could report him to the police. He knew Inspector Pentaghast, so even without proof, perhaps she could do something about him.

"How did you know?" Merrill asked once they were outside, freezing their butt off. The ghost of a dead elf boy was walking alongside her.

"Because I'm a medium and psychic, I can see into one's mind among other things, and he had less than idyllic thoughts towards you."

"Oh my…" She murmured, blinking in surprise. Her cheeks not covered by her Vallaslin were pink from the cold. She then smiled, relief easing the tension in her body, in her mind. She was glad someone else was like her, at least some bits.

She grabbed his gloved hand and he felt a wave of warmth spread around him, protecting him like a cocoon. "You're not the only one with magic."

He laughed, delighted. He'd met only too few like him before.

They were reaching her apartment now, the ghost still following them, and he had to ask. "Tell me, Merrill, have you lost someone recently?"

"I did. Is he...?"

"He is. I believe he wants to make sure you're alright."

She pressed her lips together and didn't reply. Before they separated, he gave her his business card.

"If you ever need anything, daisy, or just want to chat."

It was his turn to be surprised when she hugged him, their body barely touching though the thick layers of material they both were wearing, but he appreciated the gesture. He returned home with the feeling he did something good. Dealing with those scums was always the worse because even when he knew their intentions, he couldn't tell anyone. It was maddening, but he took comfort in what he could stop.

Snow began to fall in big, fluffy flakes on the way, illuminated by the yellow street lights. The street was silent except for the wind hitting a part of his neck that his scarf wasn't covering. He was quickly transforming into a walking snowman.

Someone was leaning against the brick wall beside his shop, smoking through the midst of all. He was waiting for him, undisturbed by the weather.

"Are you Branson?" Dorian asked once he was close enough, fetching his keys. "I'm sorry, I had some errands to make and had no idea this would take this long."

"It's no trouble, I'm early anyway," the man said with a deep, accented voice. He finished his cigarette, throwing it away. Branson followed him inside as he opened the lights and put his bags away, shaking his hair to remove the snow that hadn't melted already. Dorian led him to the couch, telling him to get comfortable.

"Anything you'd like to drink?"

"Tea, if you have some." Dorian looked at Branson a moment longer than needed. Spiders crept from the corner of his mind, and Dorian couldn't decipher why they were there.

He prepared him a hot chocolate and tea for himself, and he smiled down at him when he saw Branson's surprised look.

"You shouldn't hide your sweet tooth."

"Thank you." It was his favorite drink to snuggle with in a duvet during long, sleepless nights.

Dorian installed himself beside him on the couch, blowing on his tea before taking a sip. It was too hot, but his ears were barely getting warmer even with Merrill's spell. He kept his hands wrapped around the warm mug, careful not to spill the content.

"Now, tell me why you're here."

The blond man shrugged, a bit uncomfortable. "A lot of things are happening right now in my life, I suppose I'd like some advice from you."

"Mm. You seek answers, but for that, you need to be honest with me. Why are you using your brother's name, Mister Rutherford?"

The man was stunned for a second before a scowl replaced the expression.

"You did a research on me?"

Dorian couldn't help himself, he laughed. "How could I, when you didn't even give me your real name. You took a false name to try to prove I'm a charlatan, but I'm not, Cullen."

The scowl deepened. He didn't like anything involving magic, dark memory creeping through the spiders.

"Not all magic is bad. I can prove myself some more, if you'd like."

"You haven't proved anything." Cullen replied harshly, then sighed and took a sip of his hot chocolate, closing his eyes when it made him remember his youth. "I apologize for my rude behaviour. Let me do this again."

He extended his big hand. "I'm Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Montreal Police Service. I was requested by Inspector Pentaghast to contact you about a missing person. You already worked with the police in the past and proved efficient, but I…"

"Didn't believe her," Dorian finished for him, shaking his hand. Tendrils of fear oozed from the commander, but it wasn't directed at him. "Something bad happened to you a few years ago, bad enough to make you hate magic."

"Bad wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe it, but yes."

"And then your wife left you."

"How did you-?" The ring' imprint wasn't even visible anymore on his finger, but it didn't stop Cullen from feeling its invisible weight from time to time.

"You thought you'd die when you were captured by those people, but she broke your heart. You didn't want to get those pills at first, but they help with the memories most days. Shall I go on?"

Cullen was dumbstruck, his hands gripping his jeans tightly. "I don't really like people digging into my head."

"I see only glimpses and pieces. I can tell you the color of your underwear too."

"It's not necessary."

"Green with a red design, it was a gift from… Mia." He hid his smirk in his mug, having an image of Cullen in the mirror this morning wearing nothing but that underwear. A wonderful sight.

"Cassandra forgot to mention your-"

"Charms? Good looks?"

"I was about to say elocution, but that too." The police man was flirting back, Dorian realized as his neck became hot with the sudden attention. Cullen was now looking at him in amusement and interest, but he dismissed it.

"So, about that missing person, shall we go to the station right now?"

"Actually, I brought the item. Do you mind doing this right now?"

"If I mind?" Dorian thought about all the puns he could go with this, but decided against it. "Not at all. I'm charging you at the hour." Dorian smirked at him, and Cullen answered with a seductive crooked smirk of his own.

"The police is covering the fees."

"Such sassiness coming from you. I like it."

For a split second, he saw Cullen overlooking a battlefield, sword and shield in hands, before he blinked the image away. Cullen returned to his car to get the item. A shadow followed him, too weak to take any real form, but it was worrisome. Dorian had seen such apparitions behind other people, sucking their energy like parasites. He would need to add a quick ritual to help get rid of it, with Cullen's permission.

He brought their drinks to the table, on which he installed his map with a pendulum. He already helped the police in the past, but this was the first time an officer came in person for that. And what a handsome one at that, Dorian thought as Cullen stepped inside. Whatever product he'd use in his hair had claimed forfeit at the snow, curls retaking their shape and framing his face. His amber eyes told stories of their own, the scar on his lip an eternal physical reminder. He was still wary of Dorian, something the latter understood, but it wouldn't last. Not when Dorian intended on finding that missing person.

"Here." Cullen brought a chair around the table and sat beside him, one of his broad shoulders touching Dorian's and his delicious cologne drifting to him. Dorian unconsciously leaned towards him as he focused on the scarf he gave him, touching its thick material.

"A teenager elf boy, brown hair and green eyes. He stole this scarf." Images shifted fast behind his eyes, making it almost impossible to grasp anything out of them. He took a deep breath, forcing things to slow down. He grabbed his pendulum, letting it circle above the map.

He didn't even realize he was talking in his native language until the pendulum stopped and he snapped out of his trance.

"A warehouse," he stated, blinking. He drained his remaining tea, his mind fuzzy and disconnected from his body. Cullen was already on his phone and putting on his coat.

"Cassandra, Dorian found the place." Cullen quickly finished the call, ready to go. He was almost vibrating with contained eagerness when he turned to Dorian who had followed him.

"We're going in right away. Thank you, Dorian. If the location is true, we'd save numerous lives tonight. I'll come back to pay you ASAP."

"It's a date. Go now, before you burst into flames."

Cullen stammered, blushed, then left. Dorian sighed, not sure if he'd even get a chance with that handsome man.

A week passed by. He had tea with Merrill. Felix continued to haunt him and more snow fell, a white Christmas was inevitable at that point. Dorian didn't celebrate but he'd spend Christmas day with Sera and her girlfriend Lavellan, eating junk food and watching series on Netflix.

Christmas' Eve had been calm so far. The Black Emporium was open as an excuse for him not to do anything all day, laying on his couch with a book. Snoufleur was for once with him, sprawled against his legs and purring in her sleep.

His phone vibrated somewhere, and he groaned, not willing to move. It continued, and so he dug around until he found it behind his back.

"Hello?"

"Good day, Dorian." It was Cassandra.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cullen told me about his meeting with you… He's not like this, usually."

"Calling on his behalf, are you? You must have a lot of respect for him."

"I am, and I do. He went through experiences that would've left weaker men broken, but he isn't. He's recovering."

"I know, I saw it. He has a good heart."

"That he does."

"What did he tell you exactly, for you to call me?" Dorian asked, amused. He stroked Snoufleur's back.

On the other end, Cassandra drew a pause. "You can't tell him I told you, but he praised your good work in his report and added that you should be put first on our psychic detectives' list. That's his way of saying he likes you."

"Oh. Interesting." The door bell made him turn around, glasses sliding down his nose, and he pushed them up to see the newcomer.

"Hi," Cullen greeted him with a smile.

"He was quick enough," Cassandra said. "Call me back to tell me everything."

"Will do." He closed the call and let his phone on the couch as he got on his feet. "Hello, Commander. How did it go?"

"Call me Cullen, please. We found the boy and others who had been missing, all thanks to you." He retrieved a letter from his pocket and gave it to him. "As promised."

"Thank you." He could've used for the payment, but that silly man had preferred to come in person.

"Um, also…" Cullen's cheeks went pink, a charming sight on the otherwise masculine officer. "I know it's supposed to be a family thing, and I'd understand if you already had plans, but would you like to have dinner with me, as my way of apologizing for the way I treated you before?"

Behind him, Felix appeared and looked at him meaningfully.

"I'd love to," Dorian beamed at him. "Let me close and we can go, alright?"

"Alright." Cullen chuckled, pleased. "Sure."

Felix smiled and disappeared at once, aiming for the light that had tried to seduce him for a while now. Dorian would be in good hands, he had no more reason to stay.

 **Now I was myself confused a bit at first at the difference between a medium and psychic, so just so you know; psychic is someone who use extrasensory perception (a sixth sense, or a third eye) to find information hidden from the other senses, and medium is someone able to communicate with the dead. I wanted a modern setting in which Dorian keeps a link with the dead, because as sassy as he is, let's not forget that he's a necromancer too.**

 **Commander is a real title from the Montreal Police Service, as is Inspector.**


	2. Nightmares always hang on

**I'm back with a new chapter of this marvelous AU! Warnings for this: mentions of kidnapping, violence, ghosts and dark entities. There's also a witchcraft ritual that is based on other rituals but was created from my own mind. Still, don't try to recreate this at home - or do so at your own risks.**

 **Chapter 2 : Nightmares always hang on past the dream**

"How charming."

The house was dilapidated. It was one of those abandoned places nobody took notice in anymore because it'd been abandoned for so long that it blended in with the rest of the neighborhood, graffiti littered on the facade now a part of the scenery. The windows were condemned It was a place where some obscure rumors would emerge after a while. Rumors would be coated with violent details and ghosts every time one would tell its story until it became part of the town's folklore. There was one in about every town, and a dozen in every city.

The hallway didn't look anything remarkable when Dorian stepped in it; without furniture except for a broken beggar's bench and a lot of dust where a way had been cleaned up with the forensic team's movements. Dorian could see the imprints left on the walls by photo frames, the cobwebs gathering in the corners and in the ceiling lamp. This house, where families had once lived and loved, was now nothing but its disemboweled shell.

Assured footsteps approached. "Good morning," Cassandra said. She wasn't in her police uniform, instead in a semi-casual outfit that investigators favored when they were in the middle of a case. She still looked as dignified as ever.

"Inspector Penthaghast." Dorian smiled at her. "It's always a pleasure to hear your voice first thing in the morning." She smiled back, indulging him, but her mind was set on her current case and not on pleasantries.

"Thank you for coming this quickly."

"It was no problem. I brought coffee."

She accepted his extra cup with a smile. It was a soy latte with a touch of cinnamon, like she preferred it best.

"Cullen is here?" She hadn't told him on the phone this morning, but some of her thoughts were on a conversation they had a few minutes ago. Beside, this type of cases was usually investigated by the both of them.

As if on cue, Cullen walked in, removing his plastic gloves. He looked ridiculously handsome, with the fit pants emphasizing his long legs and the black button-down shirt on the verge of being too tight for his chest and muscular arms. His sleeves were rolled up, and Dorian diverted his gaze before he began to stare.

The smile he gave Dorian was small but genuine, if a little surprised. "Hi. I didn't know Cassandra called you for help."

"You never asked before," Cassandra said. "If I recall correctly, your words on psychic investigators were-"

"No need for that," Cullen cut her off, his cheeks pink despite his frown.

Dorian grinned, not concerned about Cullen's previous opinion on people like him. "Yes. After all, Cullen didn't know me back then. Now, am I allowed a debrief before I step in any further?"

"Of course." Cassandra lent him the folder she was carrying in one hand. Dorian skimmed through it. It was mostly shots of prison-like cells and profiles of the people they rescued. "We've been after a suspect involved in human and sex traffic. This was a house where he kept persons, either illegal immigrants who were promised a better future or abducted people. We saved most of them but the suspect wasn't here when we arrived."

"They kept a file of everyone for their website, and we weren't able to retrace all of them, so either the captives were killed, either the suspect ran off with them."

"Or were sold."

Cullen nodded. "Or sold."

"So you want me to check for any hint of where the suspect could be and hide and what happened to the missing persons?"

"Precisely."

Working with the police wasn't always peachy for his morale, but it was the first time they were seeking help for a case this serious. "Alright. Luckily I have coffee. Lead the way."

"It's downstairs."

"Like any good B-horror movies would approve of."

Dorian felt the change as soon as Cassandra opened the door and they began going down the stairs, Cullen close behind him. He could easily feel the fear and the pain lingering in the air like a bad smell, forcing itself into his lungs. He could almost grasp it for it was so thick at places. The ground was just turned dirt, the walls cold cement. Wooden walls divided the basement into smaller rooms, heavy locks installed on the doors, and Dorian's stomach twisted when he saw all of them only contained a mattress and nothing else. They had to sleep down there, and chances – or lack of chances – were that he was about to feel what they felt. That was the point of his presence anyway, and he braced himself for the worst.

It hit fast.

"Woah." All the negative feelings crashed into him at once, and for a second he thought his knees would give up underneath him. Luckily Cassandra was there to support him, taking his hand and letting him lean against her solid frame. She was like a rock, solid and comforting.

They'd known each other for about a year now, and she'd asked him how everything he did was working. She had a personal interest in his work, and she knew doing certain things or going certain places would affect him and drain more of his energy.

Dorian liked her because her thoughts were like a river going in one direction, except when it came to romance. They talked about it once, and she kept on claiming romance wasn't dead, that she was contemplating subscribing to that asexual meeting website she once stumbled upon in her research on greysexuality. Dorian didn't tell her, but she would end up falling in love with one of her very close friends.

"Is everything okay?" Cullen rested a hand on his shoulder. Dorian immediately felt better.

"I'm fine. It's just a bit too much to take at once for my senses."

"Take your time."

He gave himself a minute, unknotting the many threads entangled in his mind, the remaining feelings and memories in the very air he was breathing and spread everywhere in the basement. Underneath the chemical products used by the forensic team and the old, mossy smell, Dorian could smell something coppery, a mix of rust and blood. He didn't know whether it was real or from his powers.

"Blood has been spilled down here for a long time. Evil attracts evil, there's probably some other dark history that happened in this building, yes?"

Cullen tapped something on his cellphone. "I'll look it up."

"Which cells were empty?"

Cassandra led him to the first one, and he carefully stepped inside. It was tiny, and screams still echoed against the walls. Tears had stained the mattress. He only needed to touch it before he shook his head.

"She was killed." They went to the other ones, but the treads were too tightly entwined for Dorian to decipher anything. His coffee was quickly finished as the two cops let him do his thing, close enough however if there was anything he discovered or needed.

The insights were like raspy voices, echoes of what they once were, and some were louder than others. Doubt and guilt and remorse mixed with small strains of happiness and joy. Down here felt like a bundle of misery, darkness seeping not from the lack of light, but from the corners of minds desperate enough to accept anything in exchange for a moment of rest.

Walls told stories with a simple touch, and he kept seeing a human bringing terror to those trapped here. He smelled like fish and salt. He liked to come down and visit one of the men, a slim elf who had wished for a better life but was greeted with this cell instead.

"I have the face of someone," he declared, and a forensic artist was called over. He didn't remember how he described the elf, but apparently well enough for a face to appear and the paper to be sent for analysis. He would be more difficult if he was an illegal immigrant, but at least his face would be dispatched to all police stations in the area and possibly the RCMP.

Dorian woke up from his trance disoriented, sitting in an uncomfortable chair. He felt like crying, but didn't know if it was of his own exhaustion or the torrent of emotions he wasn't able to shut away.

He sighed and opened the case folder again. He needed some time to cool down, but apparently there was none of that that day. A notebook fell on his lap while he was opening the document. He grabbed it and stood to join Cassandra who was the closest to him.

"What is this?"

"A journal. It was found underneath a mattress. Its content is being analysed, but we thought you might want to have a look."

"More like have a touch." Dorian smiled, ignoring his low level of energy. He could sleep later. He took the well-used book and carefully opened it. The handwriting was small, hurried along the pages. It was not English. He wasn't interested in the words however, and he turned the pages to reach the last entry. The words were frantic here.

He could hear something in those pages, and he tried to listen closer. No matter how hard he tried, there wasn't anything he could perceive in the static. He pursed his lips and prodded further, but he suddenly felt so tired his legs just decided to give up.

"Hey, hey there." Cullen grabbed him just as he was falling sideways. He managed to grab Cullen' biceps, but he was in safe arms. "I got you. Let's go sit down."

He meant for them to sit in the chairs in the basement, but Dorian weakly shook his head. He wanted the voices to stop. "Upstairs."

"Alright." He forced his legs to move just a little longer so Cullen wouldn't support all his weight, not that the other really seemed to mind. He had an arm secured around his waist, their sides pressed together. His aura was already helping Dorian.

There was a pair of chairs where the living room used to be, and Cullen helped Dorian in one, the latter sitting heavily with a sigh. He was just conscious that Cullen took the diary from him, then sat beside him.

"How are you feeling?" Cullen said.

"Dazed and drained. It'll pass."

"Mm. Here, I have this for you."

Cullen handed him an energy bar, and Dorian couldn't help but smile at the gesture. "Thank you. I'll continue working on the case as soon as I get a bit of energy."

"Don't worry yourself with that. It can wait for a few more days."

Dorian opened the energy bar and took a large bite of it. He sighed around his mouthful, slumped a bit further in his chair. "It's been a while since I sensed so much all at once," he said after.

"What's it like, exactly?"

"Downstairs? It's like receiving notifications from all your social media accounts at once, but in your head. They keep coming even though you close them and try to put them on silent mode. Some notifications are louder than others, some are mere whispers, others are able to shake you to your core, but the worse ones are those that literally slam through you, and there's nothing you can do but brace yourself for the impact."

"Was there a lot of those racing feelings running through you?"

"A few. The pain and fear hanging in the air were mostly the things that drained my energy however, because I had to cut them off to better focus on the rest."

"Oh."

Dorian chuckled, looked at Cullen as he was finishing the bar. "What do _you_ feel downstairs?"

Cullen let out a breath, shifted on his chair until their thighs were touching. "Of course I don't feel the same things you do, but it's very miserable down there. It's very empty and heavy, and those cells… it looks like a prison." He suppressed a shiver, trying to not think about that thing he still had nightmares about, but Dorian got a glimpse of it.

"It's okay, I understand what you mean." He squeezed his knee, resting his hand there.

"I still wonder if I like the fact you can so easily know things without me having to explain them." There was a bit of bite in his words, and he realized it.

It was Dorian's fault that Cullen had been distant with him during the previous weeks. He'd make the mistake of mentioning the dark mist following him during their first dinner/date, and Cullen had closed up immediately. He was scared of it. There wasn't anything he could really do if Cullen didn't want to participate in getting rid of the entity clinging to him, so he opted not to talk about it when they'd seen each other. It was difficult, however, with their respective schedule, and Dorian was afraid he'd done the wrong thing and that Cullen just didn't want to see him anymore. It wasn't as difficult through texts, as Dorian could filter what he wanted to say and not sound eager at being replied.

And now he fucked it up again, it seemed. Some thoughts were meant to be probed, and Dorian was very good at probing exactly these ones.

Except Cullen hadn't meant to be so rude. He took Dorian's hand and pressed his thumb in his palm, gently stroking it and working any tension there. Dorian made a contented noise. He never noticed that Cullen had a tattoo on the palm side of his middle finger, a sword between his first and second knuckle. "Can I offer you a ride home?"

"And not deal with the metro? I'd appreciate it."

They both heard Cassandra coming closer. Cullen determinably kept working his hand, rubbing his knuckles. Cassandra made a quick stop when she saw them, but didn't comment.

"You were very useful today, Dorian. Did you sense anything from the diary?"

"Not yet, but it'll come. Can I bring it home, so I can examine it later?"

"It shouldn't be a problem."

"Alright, thank you."

"Let's call it a day," she said, to which Dorian was grateful. His bed and maybe Netflix were calling him.

He ignored Cassandra's smirk when he climbed into Cullen's car. He instead focused to push away any remaining energies of this place. High turbulence zones were more difficult to detach himself from.

Cullen sat in the driver seat, glanced at him before he put his seatbelt on and started the car. He was buzzing with energy, and Dorian was careful to take only the tiniest bit.

"It's alright, you know," he said after a moment of silence.

"What is?"

"To ask me what I know about your past."

Cullen looked at him from the corner of his eyes, let out a small sigh. "I was transferred here with the hopes I wouldn't have to go through this again."

"I'm sorry. Just so you know, I didn't look for answers after I saw the mist."

Cullen groaned. They spent a few minutes in silence. It was weird for Dorian that he didn't need to tell Cullen his address. He knew it by heart.

"Is it here, now?" He finally asked, looking in the rear mirror as if he would see it himself.

"Um, yes."

"Where?"

Dorian cleared his throat. "It's right behind you, it always is."

Cullen gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles turning white

"By the Maker."

"I can help, if you'd like. To get rid of it."

"… Let me think about it."

"Not too much either, I hope." Dorian could see him worrying himself sick over what was attached to him, wondering when it could be from yet already knowing very well.

The discussion killed the mood. Dorian had been looking forward to more hand touching, but it was alright. He was efficient at pushing people away, he could almost call it a talent now. He stared down at the well-used diary, the thin layer of his gloves separating it from his skin. He shoved it in his bag to be dealt with later.

Cullen bid him goodbye, his eyes saying something else. Dorian was tempted to dwell into them to seek the answer, but he didn't. He couldn't, wouldn't do that to him.

"I'll see you soon," he instead said, smiling.

Dorian let his bag in the hallway of his loft and didn't think about the diary for the rest of the day. He had emails to reply, a few conversations to catch on Facebook, and he mostly stayed a slump in his bed to do so, eyes becoming blurry because of his contact lenses getting dry. He finally removed them, opened Netflix and prepared himself a quick snack before returning to his original position. Snoufleur smelled the food and joined him as Stranger Things was at the opening credits.

He really was exhausted though. He fell asleep soon after he finished eating, Snoufleur curled on his chest and purring. With his tiredness he forgot to light up his night light.

He woke up to his cat's small paws digging painfully in him. He groaned, tried to push her away, but she wouldn't budge. She was looking at something in the dark. He blindly searched for his glasses and put them on, but the thing wasn't visible with eyes. He could sense it already, in his goosebumps and the way he felt super alert of a presence in his room.

He turned on his bedside light. Things had moved, had been turned upside down. He stayed a moment in bed, listening. There was the howl of the wind outside, the tick tock of the clock, but underneath it, he could hear a telling static. He groaned, because it meant his ward was off and something had come through.

A tap on the wall beside his head, then a scratch. He took Snoufleur in his arms and went to stand in the middle of the room. The cat was following the spirit or demon with her eyes as he scrambled to light up incense. He could reactivate his barrier, but this took time, and the entity was here right now; trying to provoke fear and fright in him to feed on them.

Alright. He put Snoufleur on the floor, asking her to stay close. He took a pen on his end table and drew a ward on his forearm, muttering a sentence he knew by heart. There was a thud very close, and he repeated the expulsion spell louder. He didn't flinch when his lamp was knocked over. The lamp cast a haunting light in his room, the shadows long and distorted.

Snoufleur hissed, hiding behind his legs. It was something quite dangerous, if Snoufleur was scared of it. Usually she tried to jump on them. It was going away however, he could sense it.

"Goodbye," he said one last time, and the presence vanished.

He took a deep breath. An entity had followed him from the abandoned house. He had to warn the others.

"It's gone, darling." Snoufleur meowed and pressed herself against him until he picked her up, gently petting her. He retrieved his cellphone with his free hand and sat on his bed to send a group message. He stared at his phone after that, feeling exhausted. That hadn't been a pleasant rise and shine. The ward he'd drawn on his arm was itching, and when he looked at it he realized he'd exercised too much strength, leaving the skin irritated. He let go of Snoufleur who promptly sprawled on the covers, and he went to the bathroom to wash the mark off. The soap stung, but it grounded him in the present.

His phone rung in the other room. He dried his hands and hurried back.

"Hi, did I wake you up?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping," Cullen said, his voice slower than usual. Dorian looked at the time. It was almost four in the morning.

"All the better then."

"You wanted to know if weird things happened at my place?"

"Something might have followed you from the house earlier. Sometimes I'll attract a lot more entities than normal people, but I figured I'd still ask just in case. Was it why you weren't sleeping?"

He bit his lip after saying that. He was at that impasse where he shouldn't actually know anything about most of Cullen's past, but he still knew bits and pieces of it because he kept getting glimpses every time they'd seen each other.

"Partly. I woke up from a nightmare. My house feels… odd."

"Okay. Well, can I head over and help to get rid of that oddness?" Pretty blunt, but Dorian was tired.

"Are you sure?"

"I mean, it can wait until the morning, but I feel like you're one of those people who won't go back to sleep after a bad dream."

"Point taken." He gave him his address. Dorian tried not to think how weird it would be, instead convincing himself his intentions were pure and he wanted to protect a friend from harm.

He called a cab, took a quick shower and dressed warmly. It was the beginning of spring and the weather was still too cold for his tastes. He bid Snoufleur goodbye and took off, knowing she'd be safe with the protection ward he inscribed in her collar.

The ride to Cullen's went by fast, and Dorian refused to be excited about this. He would go there, do the barrier, then return home to sleep all day… Yeah, right.

Cullen lived in a nice neighborhood, clean streets and white fences and infinite rows of identical modern duplexes.

He was not prepared for the sight of Cullen. He looked tired, blond curls a bit of a mess and just adorable on top of his masculine face. He was wearing a simple white V-neck t-shirt and black sweatpants with lion slippers, and damn if it wasn't the cutest thing Dorian had seen lately.

"Good morning, I suppose," Dorian said with the most cheerful voice he could muster.

"Hi. Come in."

It wasn't a surprise that decorations were lacking in his house. He'd been living here for less than a year and other than the random trophy or small object, his walls were bare. He had, however, a bookcase taking a whole wall filled with books in his living room.

"I made some coffee, I figured you and I both needed it."

"Good idea, thanks." He approached the books while Cullen disappeared to get their coffee. "You have a nice collection," he commented, noting they were ordered by alphabetical order of authors.

"Thank you. They've been following me for a long time."

"No wonder you couldn't bring anything else." He recognized some names, but most of them were unknown.

"Here. I don't know how you like it, so I added a bit of sugar and almond milk."

"And cinnamon," Dorian said after he took a careful sip. "It's perfect." Cullen nodded, smiling a bit.

"I noticed you drank everything with some."

"As you should too, it's one of the world's best spices."

Cullen laughed, and Dorian realized he'd talked with a bit too enthusiasm. He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, I'm tired."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." They continued to look at each other. Dorian wanted to hug him and never let go. Remnants of his previous panic were drifting towards him and he shooed them away.

"So, um, would you like to tell what happened to you tonight?"

"I had a nightmare." Cullen shrugged.

"You have a lot of those, I assume."

"…I do. I've been having trouble sleeping for a while now."

"And when you woke up earlier?"

"It was as if I was still in my nightmare. I could _feel_ something in my bedroom with me."

"You heard scratching sounds, knocks on the walls?"

"My bed moved… That's when I decided it was time to get up."

Dorian made a face. "The same thing happened to me, except no bed shaking…" He stopped and chuckled at the innuendo, Cullen thinking the same if the glint in his eyes was of any indication. "I suspect dark energy clung to us from earlier and followed us home. There's something I could do to help you with that, a ritual that I also do in my home. It would influence on any negativity and force them to stay away."

Cullen took a moment to reply. "It might have an impact on my dreams then?"

"Possibly, yes."

He nodded. "What do you need, then?"

Dorian smiled and let his mug on the counter to search in his bag. "I brought everything, so maybe just a bit of space in the living room?"

"Go ahead. It's not like I have a lot of things in there."

"True. Feel free to wander or to watch if you want, I don't mind."

The duplex was a two-level duplex with a basement, so Dorian expected many openings he'd have to put wards on. Normally he would install the barrier only in the bedroom, but he wanted to try in the whole house so it chased away the dark entity from Cullen's back in the same mean.

He sorted out his material: incense, light candle, his wand and energy crystal. The ritual was simple but required concentration, for a simple crack in the barrier would allow passage. It was not what Dorian wanted.

First he lit up his candle and focused on himself, his energy, pushing the rest away. He cleansed his thoughts, centered himself, and with a last exhale he was ready.

Cullen was curious at the display Dorian was making, but knew when to step back, a treat Dorian appreciated more and more. He sat a little bit further on the sofa and watched in silence, respectfully.

Next, Dorian recited a few sentences in his native tongue, the words flowing like a prayer repeated so many times he didn't even need to think about it. He picked up his wand and gently held it, sending his energy into it so it mixed with the tool's own powers, greeting it once again.

The wood was vibrating in his grip, its energy ready to burst, and he grabbed the crystal before he stood. He'd need the latter to feed him of its natural energy along the way.

He strode to the first window of the living room, raising his wand. He drew the ward and whispered a few words. He knew it worked when there was a noise, like static, and the window closed in his mind. Cullen heard it too, judging by his small gasp. He didn't say anything and stayed seated in the living room while Dorian was magically putting a barrier on every opening of the house. It took some time, but at the last window, he immediately felt the change.

The atmosphere went very heavy all of a sudden, so heavy Dorian was sure he'd have to get out of the house with Cullen. Whatever had been here wasn't happy to be thrown out. He returned to Cullen and saw him standing in the middle of the room, a hand on the back of his neck.

"Is everything alright?"

"I don't know." He was looking around, weary, perhaps thinking something was about to burst from one of the seats. "I felt something touch me a moment ago, and now my neck burns."

"Let me see."

Cullen removed his hand, and Dorian bit his lip at what he saw.

"Did it feel like a scratch?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"You have a scratch mark that is going redder before my eyes."

"Let me see." He hurried to a mirror and swore under his breath when he saw the bruise.

"Cullen…"

"We need to get rid of the thing against me," Cullen stated, his jaw set.


	3. You shouldn't like things

**Warnings for this chapter: mention of abduction and slavery, discussion of death. Title is taken from Stranger Things.**

 **Chapter 3 : You shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to**

Discarding a dead clinging to the living was a difficult task. It wasn't just about telling it to piss off, it required much more preparation and a more complicated ritual than Dorian was used to do.

"I'll need to contact a few friends for their help," he was telling Cullen on the opposite side of the booth. He'd been the one suggesting to go eat somewhere. He was starving and felt like Cullen also needed the distraction.

"There's no rush. It's not like I got this yesterday."

"The faster we'll get rid of it, the happier I'll be, to be honest."

Cullen was already in his police uniform for his shift starting in about an hour, his bare arms an attraction for poor Dorian. He never thought he'd seen a day where he would eat breakfast with a cop, yet here they were. The medium and the sexy stern cop. Well, he wouldn't use the word stern to define Cullen anymore, but he did look the part all those months ago, smoking and waiting for him by his shop in the cold days of December.

"I still don't understand why— " He groaned. "Nevermind."

"Why what?" Dorian smiled, noticing how his cheeks were flushing.

"Why you care so much."

"Oh." Dorian blinked, a bit at a loss for what to say. "Well I care for you, I thought I was making myself clear by now."

"I care for you too." Cullen bit his lip, his blush deepening. "I really do, but I don't- um, how to say this. I don't really feel…"

"I get it, that's alright. Do you think you could be asexual?"

Cullen looked around them to make sure no one was listening, but they were alone in the restaurant along with an elderly couple. He dug into his crumpet, trying to calm his nerves, and Dorian let him. It was a sensitive subject and Cullen didn't like to talk about his sex life.

When he next talked, it was on a lower voice. "I don't think that's the case. I… I want to have sex, but not with anybody. There was someone before, but I didn't want sex with them, just you know, cuddles and kisses. Let's just see he didn't want to wait for me to stop being a frigid, as his words were."

"I'm sorry." Without thinking, Dorian took Cullen's hand and squeezed it. "You might be demisexual then."

"What's that?"

"I suggest looking it up on Google, but basically it's someone who doesn't have sexual attraction without an emotional bond. Also your sexual attraction and libido are two different things, for example you might find sex a repulsive notion but still want to masturbate every now and then."

"You know more about the subject than I do."

"Well, I read a lot and I like to appear smarter than I am. Asexuality wasn't something I knew existed before I read about it. I know the term isn't something a lot of people are familiar with. Usually they associate asexuality with someone who doesn't have sex in the moment, but it's more than that. It's a sexual preference that embraces different spectrums of it, like demi and greysexuality."

Cullen nodded. Relief was painting his mind with shades of cool blues. "Well I didn't know there was a term for it either. I thought I was just weird, you know."

"Oh dear. Between us two, I'm the weird one who talks to the dead. You define your sexuality, not the other way around. Beside… I think you're worth waiting for."

Cullen regarded with an intense look. He'd been too cheesy, hadn't he?

Instead of a negative reaction, Cullen smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you."

"I'm always happy to help."

Cullen played with the rings on his fingers, gently twisting them around. "I've noticed."

Dorian snorted, returned the smiled and said nothing.

Cullen paid for both of their breakfast, ignoring his protests. "You helped me, it's the least I can do."

"I'm not doing this for you to owe me anything."

"I know, that's why I'm paying you breakfast."

The restaurant was close to Dorian's apartment, so they parted at Cullen's car. Mindful of his cop belt, Cullen brought him in a warm hug, his fingers caressing the back of his neck. Dorian didn't know what to do for a few seconds before he embraced him back. He breathed his cologne and sent strong positive vibes his way.

"Stay safe," Cullen said, his smile shy.

"You too, Commander."

His smile grew before he climbed in his car. Dorian watched him leave, ignoring the warm feelings that weren't only coming from him, then took off home. Nothing had been moved again, and Dorian made half an attempt to clean up before undressing and climbing in his bed. He slept for a good part of the day, and woke up to the cold spot Snoufleur made when she quit her spot against his side. Her soft paws made that little noise on the wooden floor. He groaned when he realized he went to bed with his contact lenses on, now his eyes dry and blurry.

He got up and went to the bathroom to remove them, then searched his glasses for five minutes, scolding himself because he didn't retrieve them before he removed his contacts, as usual. He eventually found them on the coffee table where he normally wouldn't put them. He blamed Snoufleur.

His cellphone rang, the Twilight Zone ringtone announcing Cassandra was the one calling him.

"You texted me something peculiar last night. I gather something happened?"

"Yeah, residual entities followed Cullen and I home, but I took care of it. What about you, did you sleep well last night?"

"I did. Cullen mentioned you coming to his house for a spell?"

"I put a barrier on it to protect him, yes, with the hopes it'd also keep the nightmares at bay."

"I hope so for him. He seemed more relaxed today. I suspect this is your doing."

"Me?" Dorian scoffed. "I'll admit my presence can be wonderful for everyone around, I have a certain talent with words."

"Perhaps not only with words…" Cassandra coughed, probably red as a tomato on the other side of the line, and Dorian let out a strangled laugh.

"Cassandra Pentaghast, I never hoped for such truth to come out of your mouth." He was met with silence, and he took pity on her. "Would you sleep better with a protection on your apartment?"

"Not at the moment." Aveline, Cassandra's roommate, didn't believe in ghosts, and thus in Dorian's powers. She was wary of him ever since he told her a ghost was keeping her safe. It was best not to show up at their place with an Ouija board and his magic wand – even though it'd make for an excellent joke.

"Alright. Don't hesitate to text or call me if there's anything."

He still wanted to put back the barrier on his bedroom, so after he ate a little, he retrieved his wand from his bag and went to do so. It took nowhere as long as at Cullen's to reinstall it, as it was only his bedroom and not a whole apartment. Soon he felt the static in the air assuring him it was back in place.

He installed himself in his loving chair, disturbing Snoufleur who took refuge on the window's sill. He had a few messages to send. He never really had to deal with negative entities this determined before.

He first contacted Anders, one of Carver's boyfriends. He was sharing his body with a spirit, for lack of a better explanation, and had studied a lot in the field in hopes to get rid of it. Knowing him, he'd probably give him as much information as he could. He sent another message to Madame de Fer. She was very sensitive to the paranormal and, scholar as she was, studied the field. Lastly, he asked Merrill if her or her coven knew anything on the subject. They've kept contact ever since he helped her a few months ago, she'd even invited him to a few meetings. Heathens were fun.

That task done, he sprawled himself on the couch. It was getting late, no one would probably get back to him so late at night, but he didn't want to return to bed yet.

A familiar sound startled him, the ping of his Facebook messenger. He took his cellphone to take a look.

 _Of course I can help. What's up?_ Of course, it was Anders. Now it didn't really surprise him that he wasn't sleeping, truth be told. He was working night shifts at a hospital, so his sleep schedule must've been all over the place.

 _I'm having problems with an entity stuck to someone. Feeding off them._

 _Do you know why?_

 _Traumatic experience, but I'm not certain. I didn't ask, and they didn't know they had a friend before I noticed it._

 _Okay. What did you try?_

 _Nothing specifically to it. I put a barrier on their house to chase away the negative energies, and the entity scratched them instead of going away._

 _Alright, that's a sticky shit. Let me get back at you on this, but chances are that id need to meet your friend to know what we have to deal with here. I see you in a few days anyway, I'll accompany Carver for morale support._

 _See you soon then, and thank you._

So there was that. Anders wasn't possessed per say, he claimed he had a spirit friend whom he accepted to keep around with his healing spirit. That was double the amount of spirit people normally carried around, but Anders managed, and it was all that mattered.

There was another matter he needed to take care of. It'd been nagging at the back of his head for a while, and it was time he dealt with it.

He could read or continue watching Stranger Things, there was also a few episodes of Ghost Adventures he needed to catch on, but he knew what he had to do. The missing person's diary was still in his shop.

He went downstairs, turned on the lights, and froze. The diary had moved since the last time he saw it, and he knew for a fact he didn't touch it. Snoufleur would not do that either, she stayed wary of anything she wasn't familiar with… except for Cullen, but that was another story.

He drew the curtains before turning on the lights, to make sure no one would think it was open despite the obvious sign in the window. It happened before.

The diary was cold when he picked it up – colder than room temperature. It meant there was something in there, connected to it, like he suspected. He put it down on his séance table and lit up some incense, a special mix specifically made for summoning the dead. It always helped him connect all his senses together. He sat down and stared at the well-used book. The front lid was a pale yellow, unknown stains dark. Perhaps blood, tears, or something else.

Usually touching an evidence object required gloves, but Dorian didn't have to since it already was archived. Cassandra knew what she was doing when she lent it to him, he needed to touch it to feel the most of it.

Dorian opened the cover, turned random pages. The diary was filled to about the third of its capacity, but he noticed small drawings all over. A child, perhaps, or just to fill in the time? There was a certain talent, the themes dark and lugubrious. Not the best place to get happy ideas, after all.

He turned his attention to the written content. Did anyone translate it? He figured it probably wasn't important, nothing relevant to the case if no notes were provided to him.

He instead focused on the packaging rather than the writing itself. The pen used was bad quality, ink spots spread through small words. Everything was written in a hurry, the person wanted to share their experience at any cost. Then, it occurred to Dorian that perhaps there was not even any light in the small cell at times to see what they were writing.

He brought all the lights in the room at their highest luminosity. "You can come out now, the darkness is gone," he said in the direction of the diary. For a second, the divination crystal on his end table glowed brighter. In the mere of a blink, it dimmed, and a girl was sitting at the table. Her stare went from the diary to him.

"Hi. I don't know if you understand me, but my name is Dorian." He gestured at himself, and she made no movement to indicate she even heard him.

He slowly sat down in front of her, trying to decipher anything from her appearance. Her form was translucent from the shoulders down and didn't help much. She looked dirty, but it was expected.

"Do you understand me?" he repeated, and she gave him the same blank look. He bit his lip; the lack of verbal communication was going to be difficult. He slid the diary to her and waited to see what she would do.

The ghost's image shivered, like static on the radio. She was visibly shaken, her mouth moving without sounds coming out. Or perhaps they were, but not in this world. Dorian blinked, and a hand appeared, turning pages. It was always impressive, to witness what wasn't supposed to be tangible touch a physical, real object. The binding of the diary creaked, pressure put on it. The girl seemed to press down every time she'd turn a page, making sure to keep the book flat on the table. She wanted to see everything.

The ghost kept turning the pages until she stopped at one, pressing down so hard the table made a small noise of protest. She was taking all that energy from the crystals littered on the same end table where he kept his medium tools – tarot cards, runes and even an Ouija board. He normally kept the crystals for invocations or energy forces during rituals, and it was a good thing she was now feeding off them rather than off him. These past days had been quite spiritually exhausting, his mana pool needed time to recharge.

The diary slid back to his side of the table. A drawing was darkening the page, a rectangle with weirdly shaped letters… oh! Dorian snapped a picture. The girl didn't know the Roman alphabet, of course she wouldn't remember how to properly draw the letters either. Dorian suspected it was a sign she saw either when she first stepped in Montreal or that she was brought at some point. Any hint was better than none.

"Is this— " He looked up and there she was, small body floating above the table, a few inches away from him. In her eyes, he saw her life. The smile of her father, the song they used to sing at school, an explosion nearby the alienage, the screams ringing long after. The tears and sobs others made in the dark, soft hands in hers and whispers of empty promises. Her world was pain and despair, nights spent staring at the void. Her hands hurt, and no massage would ease the aches. She was to work the machine every day, no rest. The scary man didn't allow it.

Dorian ripped himself from the memories, his heart in his throat. He felt sick. The ghost was still there, floating in the room. There was still one thing he wanted to attempt. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, ghost memories weren't always the best to deal with and felt like stepping into fuzzy cotton.

He retrieved the map and his pendulum and placed them on the table, careful to gently push aside the diary.

"I wish to know the location of your corpse. Can you let me see?"

He grabbed the pendulum and slowly began to move it on top of the map, going from one end to the other. The crystal circled around, not pulling on Dorian's hand, and he was beginning to wonder if it would even work when the girl's image shivered again and the pendulum did give a pull. He followed it, made sure he wasn't the one causing the movement. He certainly couldn't stop an object in the mid of its action, and that's what it did. It made a thud when it landed on top of the wooden floor, but he was too busy taking note of the location to notice. As far as he knew, it was a building located in the industrial district of the city, so who knew what was in there. Corpses wouldn't be a surprise.

Dorian was asked to find where the suspect had taken refuge. Hopefully one of these clues would help the police. The girl's corpse location was perhaps the same location than the drawing, anyway that's what he was thinking.

"Thank you," he said even though she probably didn't understand him. He hoped his feelings showed through his actions. She made a small wave and vanished. Dorian was left alone in the room. Well, as much alone as he could be with his collection of interesting finds. He suspected that at least one of his paintings and his statue of Kali were possessed.

"Bethany is always with you. I don't even need to call her." Dorian blew the match and installed himself on one end of the wooden table. On the other side, Carver sighed, his large shoulders dropping.

"That's the main reason of our appointment, after Anders talked to me about what you're able to do. I want to know if there's a way to let her go to the other side. Her death was difficult to say the least, and at first I wasn't ready to let her go, but now…" Carver linked his fingers together, guilt twisting his heart. "I'm scared I'm the one keeping her here."

A strong wave of negativity hit Dorian. "You're not. Most ghosts have complete free will of their actions, and Bethany does what she wants. Sorry for the word I'm about to employ, but she says you're a twat for even thinking that."

Carver laughed, looking at Dorian with bright blue eyes. "She used to call me twat all the time."

"And still does, apparently."

"So there's nothing we can do to help her?"

Bethany's energy was strongly connected to her twin's, and Dorian doubted anything but Carver's death would change anything to that unless she changed her mind.

"She enjoys watching you be happy."

"Shit man, you can't," Carver swallowed loudly, overwhelmed. "You can't say things like that."

"The living has to live their life, for the dead remains dead no matter whether or not you mourn them. Finding happiness is not a selfish act. By the way, Beth agrees with me and repeats that you're a twat for thinking that way."

Carver chuckled, sadness seeping through him like water infiltrating the cracks of a sturdy wall. "I guess I am."

Bethany pressed a hand against her brother's shoulder, which made him jolt. "Did she just touch me?"

"She did. She must've used some energy from the crystals, or perhaps some of yours to do that. It was meant to reassure you."

"I hope so. It felt weird, but it's not the first time it happens. Um, Anders said he's able to sense her sometimes."

"He's an empath, that's normal."

"I guess, with that whole spirit possession thing."

"There's that too."

Dorian took the time to filter the emotions coming off the ghosts surrounding Carver. Love, compassion. They were proud of him. Hawks kept an eye on their family.

"Did he also mention who else is with Bethany?"

Carver cleared his throat. "Who?"

"Your parents. They're at peace and are watching over you and Marian. They're proud of you."

Carver took a moment to reply, and Dorian kept silence. Carver had lived through difficult times, and now that he finally found happiness, he still had the death of his lost family in mind; even felt responsible for it when he had been either too young or simply could not do anything about it. Bethany died in a car accident, nothing could've stopped it.

"That's… that's good. Very good. Thank you for telling me."

Anders was waiting for him in the other room. Normally Dorian didn't mind two persons at once, but technically it wouldn't be three people only in the room and Anders' ghost friends could interfere with his work.

"How did it go?" Anders asked when they emerged in the waiting area.

"Just fine," Dorian said drily. "Bethany cursed him and his legacy."

"Ha ha, that's funny. Do you make the same joke to everyone?"

"Only to you, I know how you love when I make it."

Carver chuckled at their behaviour as he slipped on his jacket. "I didn't know you both knew each other that well."

"It appears odd people stick together."

"Dorian and I met through the powers of online forums."

"What was it called again? The uh.."

"The Circle of Magi. There were some serious assholes on that forum."

Carver and Dorian laughed. It was true, he had a few disputes with some of the people on there before he stopped interacting all together with the forum and stuck with the persons he befriended.

"So what was it about?" Carver asked.

"Don't tell Fenris about this, but I was doing witchcraft back then. It was mostly discussions on rituals, experiences and such, but mostly people whining if I remember correctly."

"Teenage angst." Dorian shrugged.

"So what's this about your friend having a dark entity on them?"

"Exactly that. I don't know what it is exactly, but it's strongly attached to him."

"Him?" Carver cocked an eyebrow, grinning, and Dorian rolled his eyes.

"Am I not allowed to have any male friends without you making assumptions?"

"Well… Not when you're reacting like this. You never were good at lying."

Dorian tsked. His cellphone suddenly rang, and he excused himself to answer.

"Look at his happy face. I'm sure it's him," he heard Anders whisper to Carver.

"Hello."

"Hi. Sorry to bother you."

"You never bother me." Behind him, the both of them mimicked him with high-pitched voices.

"I'm calling you about the current case. We found the man, Dorian."

"Oh that's great to hear!"

"It is. Now we'd like you to come to the building to help us find the bodies."

"Oh."


	4. I hear the secrets that you keep

**Warnings for this chapter are mention of kidnapping and buried bodies. Title is from the song Secrets by The Weeknd.**

 **Chapter 4: I hear the secrets that you keep**

It was raining hard that day, had been for three days now. The windshields of Cullen's car were making a rhythmic sound as they continuously pushed the water aside. His side window was cracked down just a bit for Cullen to blow his smoke outside as he waited in front of the Black Emporium. It was a soothing weather, he personally like the impression of being cocooned while it poured outside the window.

"Good morning," Dorian chipped in as he climbed in the car and took the passenger's seat. "Thanks for giving me a ride."

"It's no bother," Cullen replied, quickly finishing his cigarette and crushing it into his ashtray.

Dorian smiled at him, his moustache following the movement. Cullen returned the gesture, his cheeks warming up, and he distracted himself by starting the car again. Dorian's perfume enveloped him, warm and spicy, and there was something sweet as well?

"Here, I prepared this for you." A steaming mug was shoved in front of him, and Cullen took it with a chuckle.

"A mocha? How did you- No, I'm not even going to ask."

Dorian adjusted his round glasses, smirking. Cullen tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult not to with his handsome face. He took a sip of his own drink, probably a chai latte. His earring glinted, a small black onyx stud that day, when he brushed back his bangs. His hair was getting longer, the longer parts down to his ear lobes, and he recently had dyed the two-third of it a forest green, leaving the roots their natural color. Cullen stared at the tattoo right underneath his jawline, the bird curling up to his ear and spreading its wings, deep red and white. He wondered yet again what it represented.

Pale blue eyes turned to him, caught him staring. Cullen turned back to the road, cursing his natural ability to blush so easily.

"It's alright to ask me, you know," Dorian said a moment later.

"About what?"

Dorian chuckled. "We've known each other for almost a year and you still haven't asked me about my tattoos. You can ask me questions about myself, my shop, whatever you want, you shouldn't hesitate anymore, not around me."

"From where I come from, asking questions about your appearance is considered rude."

Dorian shrugged, lightly tapping on the lid of his travel coffee mug. "I wouldn't mind, coming from you. I think that since I'm able and I've seen some of the stuff in your head, it's only fair I share my life if we want to be on the same step." He tidied his moustache in sudden hesitation. "I… I didn't plan to have this conversation so early in the morning, but yes, if you want to develop our relationship further. I'm sorry, I really suck at this."

Cullen parked himself, but kept his hands on the wheel. "On the opposite, I'm glad you told me. Thank you."

They got off the car and Cullen circled the car to properly greet Dorian. He'd been lying if he said he didn't take any occasion to hug him, he was very nice to hug and never protested. Or very rarely, despite anything he'd might thought when they first met. Instead Dorian returned the hug when he embraced him, pressing his cold ear against his cheek and making him laugh.

"Thank you for the mocha," Cullen said before kissing his cheek, smooth and faintly smelling of his moisturizer. It crinkled when Dorian smiled. He slightly turned his head, an end of his moustache brushing against his lips. The hand on his back tightened, and he looked down at his mouth, his glasses sliding down as well.

Dorian stepped back, clearing his throat. "Sorry," he said with a voice laced with… something, before he was turning on his heels and walking inside. Cullen frowned as he followed him.

It wasn't time for personal matters, anyway. Dorian was here to find the bodies of the missing persons and to close their current case.

Inside, Cassandra and Dorian were idly chatting, Cassandra explaining where they thought the corpses were located. The forensics team was here, armed with an array of construction tools they would need to dig the bodies from wherever they were. They were waiting for Dorian to operate his magic to start their own work and were drinking coffee a little further away in the warehouse, gathered around a table.

"Possibly the basement and the backyard have corpses. So far we found two, but with the list provided from the kidnapper's house, there's more to the count."

"Alright then." Dorian took a sip of his chai, then gestured at them. "Lead the way."

It was a big warehouse, abandoned in the last decade and left to rot. There was some homeless people when the police first arrived on the site who they had to interrogate and evacuate. Of course they proclaimed not to have seen anything, but a padlock had been installed on the basement's door. Downstairs was a little maze of its own, but it had been easy to discover which room had been used, filthy and with the distinctive rusty color of old blood. Cullen could taste it on his tongue if he stayed for too long. The floor was also surprisingly clean, which immediately tipped Cassandra off. A first body had been found underneath.

The two detectives told Dorian, who nodded and listened in silence, observing. His expression sometimes would turn distant as he saw something only he could see.

"Did you check this one?" Dorian asked in an inconspicuous room. Nothing had been found in it but dust.

"We did, but there was nothing, and the floor is in concrete," Cullen replied. Dorian shook his head and indicated the wall.

"Not the floor. Right here." The team was called, and they arrived almost immediately. "Be careful, he told me he's been here for a while."

A woman lifted her eyebrows in bemusement, but simply nodded. Dorian didn't linger in this room and wandered in another one, in which different construction materials had been put in storage. That room had been cleared with the materials sorted, but the investigators had found nothing either. Dorian crouched near a pillar and touched the floor, his mug tipping at a dangerous angle, and Cassandra took it from his hand before it spilled.

"I'll go get a marker," she told Cullen before she was off, leaving the two of them alone.

Cullen was watching Dorian work, letting him concentrate. It was quite fascinating, to be honest, to discover these clues from what seemed like thin air. Cullen absolutely didn't feel anything different around them, not at the moment anyway.

"Um, this is strange-Oh." Dorian's phone rang loudly, the Imperial March echoing against the walls. Cullen was facing him, and he immediately noticed the change in his behaviour. His shoulders cranked up, his face closed, and he became annoyed and angry all at once.

"What does he want?" He muttered, before he pressed the red button to refuse the call. He exhaled loudly, blinking up at Cullen as he put back his phone back in his coat pocket. "Sorry about that, I didn't expect any call."

"No problem. There's no hurry," Cullen smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. A crease had settled between Dorian's brows, stayed there as he tried to focus once more to the task at hand.

A few dark bangs hid his eyes, making it impossible for Cullen to know how he was feeling, but he let him take his time, roaming a bit and writing down notes in his notepad. He was old-fashioned like that, everybody else mocked him for not using a tablet, but he had the impression his brain was analyzing better when it had the time to write the words.

They were disturbed by the Imperial March again, which Dorian cut short with a low breathed swear. He put his phone on silent mode.

"Is everything alright?" Cassandra asked when she came back. She easily detected the tension coming from Dorian.

"Yes," Dorian answered with a sigh. "You have the marker? Good. I sense something here, and here."

The psychic medium indicated the two locations. He was trying to remain professional, but Cullen noticed that crease hadn't gone away once he deemed he found all the bodies. There were eight in total, it matched the list.

"This will take some time, Dorian," Cassandra announced, placing a hand on his arm as they were returning to the main floor. "I'd like it if you could stay so I wouldn't have to send you glamorous news of your success, but I'd understand if you'd rather not wait here."

Dorian had a dry chuckle. "Why wouldn't I?"

She exchanged a look with Cullen, who shook his head. It wasn't their decision.

"Sure then."

There wasn't much to do while they waited for the forensic team to dig in, truth be told. Cullen would usually nap or play random games on his phone, reply to some emails or talk with Cassandra. Other times if he was alone he would smoke a few cigarettes outside and think of the past. Those weren't good days. Lately his mind kept coming back to Dorian, which was way better but still troubling in a way.

Seeing Dorian upset was making him uncomfortable. He wanted to comfort him even though he ignored the reason. It was the first time Dorian was anything but positive and smiling in his presence. Whoever was calling wasn't a friend… and quite persistent. Cullen heard Dorian's pocket start vibrating again as they were sitting, and Dorian bolted upright.

"I'll be right back."

He answered while he stomped all the way out, spitting words in another language. It sounded like Hindi, so whoever was calling had to be from his native country.

"That was something," Cassandra commented, true to herself. Cullen shot her a look, nodding.

"I know. It's the first time I see him this upset."

"He once mentioned something about his father and him not being on good terms."

"To the point he put the Imperial March as his ringtone and identify him as Darth Vader on his phone?"

Cassandra shrugged. "You're his friend, not me." She said friend with a tone that implied something else, and Cullen glared at her. The warehouse door opened again brusquely before he had the chance to talk back. Cassandra took the opportunity to stand up and disappear on the other side of the room where their material was.

Dorian joined him to the bench, his expression closed. He still sat close to him, their arms brushing. He was still holding his cellphone, staring at the black screen.

"Is everything okay?" What a silly question. Dorian must have thought the same thing, with the scoff he made.

"Peachy." His sarcastic answer was bitter, but not directed at him. He sighed, his shoulder slumping. "I'm sorry. I wasn't planning to have such negativity today."

Cullen placed his hand on his back and began to soothingly rub it. "It's alright. Even you can't foresee everything."

Dorian didn't say anything. He leaned into him, his arm sneaking under his leather jacket to settle around his waist, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. They stayed like that for a while. Cullen let his head rest against Dorian's, blond curls mixing with dark brown and forest green hair.

"I think… I think I'd rather return home. Or just get out of here, really. This place makes me uneasy." Dorian's hand tightened against his hip before he let go. "I can hardly think with all the suffering."

"Of course. Cassandra!" Cullen rose without a question and gathered their empty travel mugs as Cassandra's footsteps came closer.

She had a somber expression even though she was trying to keep her expression in check. Child death had that effect on everyone. The forensic team was rolling the first corpses in black corpse bags behind her, heading for the door. They still had much work to do.

"I'll let you finish and will accompany Dorian back home, if that's alright with you."

She nodded, comprehensive. "I'll text you when it's done." She went to Dorian and actually took his hand, a rare thing as she wasn't keen for displaying her affection. She talked too quietly for Cullen to hear, and he didn't pry either. He said his goodbye to the forensic team, those interesting persons who liked to probe death on a regular basis.

Dorian appeared more relaxed already when he slid into the car. He flipped open the visor mirror and checked himself, running a finger underneath an eye to fix his makeup. Cullen hid a smile and drove off.

They stayed silent during the ride back at Dorian's apartment. Dorian was staring outside and Cullen didn't want to disturb him.

"Do you want me to drop you home?" He calmly asked him. He wasn't comfortable with leaving him alone when he was upset.

"I…" Dorian turned to him, fidgeting with his cellphone in a nervous habit. "Do you mind staying with me a moment longer?"

Cullen took one of his slightly clammy hands. "Not at all. Where would you like to go?"

Dorian shrugged. Cullen changed the car of line and headed for another direction, an idea in mind. "There's this place I sometimes go that have the best scones…"

"A dog coffee shop?" Dorian said in disbelief a moment later as they parked.

Cullen chuckled. "I thought you knew I love dogs."

"Yes, but I didn't know that existed."

"You'll see, it's great."

They got out of the car. It was getting cold with the rain that wasn't showing any sign of stopping, and Dorian shivered as they hurried inside.

Inside was much warmer. There weren't that many dogs yet, but it wasn't noon yet either. One of the dogs, a black Terrier, approached to investigate them. Dorian obviously never had a dog and didn't know how to react, but Cullen crouched and let the dog smell the back of his hand before he stroked his head, behind the ears.

"Aren't you the cutest?" He cooed, forgetting to remove his coat as he continued to pet him. He was one of the dogs belonging to the shop, and Cullen had seen him before. He was curious and liked to play around with the other dogs. Cullen might or might not have a few pictures of him on his phone.

"I don't know which one's the cutest, between the two of you," Dorian interrupted them. He was only in a dark green sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying the tattoos there, with fitting black trousers and ankle boots. He was always stylish compared to him. Cullen preferred to stick to t-shirts and jeans. That was what he was wearing underneath his coat, along with a soft vest that was getting a bit old but he refused to throw it away.

The barista greeted them and told them to take a seat. It was a coffee shop that served full meals, Cullen would often come here to work on cases and fill his quota of dog petting.

"Their chai latte is really good," Cullen commented as they were looking at the menu. Dorian's eyes lit up, which made Cullen smile and slightly blush. Sometimes he was hit with how attractive the other man was, but it was getting more than physical attraction.

Cullen excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, Dorian was petting a quite small dog, one that seemed like either a bichon frise or a maltese. He was smiling and barely appeared guilty when he caught Cullen's eyes.

"I think I found a friend." She returned to her owner after some more petting. Dorian kept a relaxed expression as they ordered a light meal, scone and another mochaccino for Cullen and cinnamon roll with a chai latte for Dorian.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cullen inquired. He wanted to know what was wrong so he could help him. Dorian had told him he could ask about him, well now was the moment.

"Sure, let me tell you all about my problems while surrounded by cute puppies," Dorian sighed, then leaned his elbows on the table. He brushed back dark green bangs away from his face as he gathered his thoughts, eyes cast down.

"It was my father. He's the main reason why I decided to leave India. Arranged marriages are a very real thing there, and my parents wouldn't take no for an answer when I refused to marry a woman. Homosexual acts are still illegal and I didn't want to be living unhappily for the rest of my life. That, and neither of my parents believed in my abilities, so I was ready to get as far as I could."

"Was it easy, to do that?"

Their order arrived, and Dorian remained silent for a moment after he took a sip and a bite.

"It probably was the hardest thing I ever had to do," he finally admitted. "I had a friend I asked to come with me, but health problems went in the way, and he died a little after I arrived here."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's alright. He found his own happiness now, and I'm still stuck having to talk to my father."

"What does he want?"

"He says he wants to rebound with me, he's trying to convince me with money to return in India. If he knew where I lived, he'd be at my door the very next day. Legacy is very important to him, more than the happiness of his only child."

Cullen shuffled his feet. A large Labrador was sleeping close to their table, their ears moving at every sound. "I know it's not my place to say this, but he doesn't deserve you."

"Thank you. For the moment he thinks I'm somewhere in British Colombia with the beautiful sceneries and average temperature, and not in Quebec with its freezing winters."

"Let it stay that way."

Dorian took a bite of his viennoiserie and had a little pleased noise. "This is so good."

"I know right? Everything is always good here."

Dorian had an indulgent smile. "You're too good to me."

Cullen huffed. "We're taking care of each other, I believe is what we're doing."

Dorian "I think so too."

They both were distracted by the large dog who was a bit too excited and licked Dorian's palm because there was some icing on it. He then returned to his spot against his chair and dozed off in less than a minute. Dorian leaned down to pat his back one last time.

"The worst with my father is that I still love him despite everything he did to me," he suddenly admitted, looking at Cullen with a mix of sadness and frustration. "I still want his approval in some sick way."

"He remains your father no matter what," Cullen stated, understanding. "What about your mother?"

"She divorced my father a few years ago. They never loved each other, and running away shattered what little illusion remained of their relationship. She got away with half the Pavus fortune, which is already quite something."

"Fortune?" Cullen frowned. Never had Dorian mentioned about that.

"Yes indeed. My family's legacy includes a lot of money, much more than I could ever spend in a lifetime." He had a rictus. "A gift that comes with its fair share of poison, and I still have no regret leaving all of this behind. Anything is better than screaming from inside in a lie of a life."

Cullen stared at Dorian, slowly exhaling. "I think you're very brave, Dorian."

The look Dorian gave him was worth his red cheeks, resilience turning to surprise, then that crease between his brows finally smoothed out, and his lips stretched in a shy smile.

"Thank you for today. I really liked the dog coffee shop," Dorian told him later on as they were entering his shop. Cullen had followed him because he needed to use the bathroom, which he quickly had done.

"It's nothing, I appreciate any excuse to go there, to be honest." Cullen smiled at him. The waiting area of his shop had peculiar paintings he was only really paying attention to. There was one beside Dorian's head that caught his eye; it was a couple dancing, their clothing colourful in a more neutral background. The man was making his partner dip backward, hovering over them with a soft expression. The other person was obscured by Dorian, and it seemed like the painted man was leaning towards him instead.

"Is something wrong?" Dorian was looking at him curiously, his head slightly on the side as he observed him, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. Cullen promptly turned around, quickly made for the way out.

"I'll see you soon," he said behind his shoulder.

He couldn't deal with those emotions. It would hurt too much, too soon, he just couldn't. How long had he been running away from everything, only to be stopped by Dorian who kept coming to him? The man had welcomed him, accepting whatever he had been throwing at him. If he knew what Cullen had done, how much of a monster he was, he would never look at him the same way. Cullen couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Not someone else he cared about.

"Cullen?"

Cullen was staring at the door, his hand closed around the handle. His breathing was fast, almost erratic, and a shiver only a second away, but he suppressed it with a shake of his head.

This was Dorian. Dorian's world. He wouldn't be hurt here.

He faced him again. Dorian repeated his name, concerned at his serious expression. Cullen strode decisively to him, and without so much as a word, he was kissing him hard. There was more teeth than lips involved, but Dorian shuddered and gasped against him before he was returning the clumsy kiss, hands gripping Cullen's coat. He was welcoming, accepting whatever Cullen was giving him.

"Fuck," Cullen muttered, opening his eyes. His chest was burning, he was feeling too much. Raw desire. "You're so—" He dove for his mouth once again, pressing them together. His lips moulded themselves to Dorian's more slowly this time, savouring this. Their noses bumped together as they kissed again and again in the middle of Dorian's shop.

Dorian was sweet but demanding, his tongue stroking his and exploring his mouth. At some point he gently pushed him to the couch and straddled his thighs. Cullen thought he was going to die like this, wrapped in his arms and his quiet moans for his ears only, and frankly, he didn't mind. It wouldn't have been a disappointing death.


	5. Cold cheeks, warm hands

Warning for this chapter: mention of minor characters death and of gaslighting, hopefully that's the correct term.

 **Chapter 5: Cold cheeks, warm hands**

 _My dear,_

 _Your message led me to make some research on what attachment might have latched itself onto your friend. Knowing that person's background would make such research easier for me, but I concluded they were neither an occult specialist nor a fellow medium of yours. Past addiction or traumas lead to a higher risk of a paranormal creature successfully connecting itself to a living being. As for the matter of attachments, it could be a ghost, a malevolent spirit, a demon acting as a psychic vampire, and the list goes on. The elementals also were mentioned in my readings, benign ethereal beings corrupted by the person they attach themselves to. It might be something to look into. My theory is whatever attached itself to your friend, they used a moment of weakness to wrap its fingers around their throat and won't let go until it's chased away or its arm is cut off._

 _Don't hesitate to call me if you need more information, dear._

 _Vivienne_

Dorian read the email one more time before he pocketed his cellphone, unconsciously pursing his lips.

"Was it that Cullen again?" Sera asked, throwing pop-corn at him from the other side of the couch. He laughed and picked it up from his shirt to eat it.

"No, it wasn't."

It'd be easier to work on exorcising Cullen if he knew what could have been the origins of that attachment, but it wasn't something he could just ask. They'd just stepped further in their relationship, he really didn't want to make any bad moves now.

"Is this the reason of the long face?" Kennocha asked, nudging him, and Dorian groaned.

"I thought we were watching a movie, not talking about my love life."

They both laughed at his sour face. "Is it that bad?"

He sighed when Sera paused the movie. "Tell us," Lavellan said, or more like commanded him.

"I'm trying to find a way to help Cullen, but I can barely gather any tangible information with the little he told me."

"And you can't know more when you touch him?" Sera asked, mimicking touching him and wiggling her eyebrows, which made Kennocha giggle. They looked happy together.

"I don't want to urge him to anything, and looking through his mind without his permission is the last thing I should do right now."

"Mm. True." Kennocha leaned closer to Sera, pressing her cheek against her arm. "Perhaps you should directly ask him then? Tell him what you should told us, that you need more infos to better help him."

"I probably should do that…"

"You're scared he'll say no?" Sera nudged him again, harder this time, and Dorian frowned at her as he massaged the sore spot. "You guys have been friends for like a year, he's seen you do crazy shit and yet he's your boyfriend now. Stop overthinking and just ask him. It's to help him after all, not the other way around."

Dorian blinked at her. "Since when are you this wise?"

"I'm teaching her," the smaller elf said with a grin. They looked at each other before kissing, and this was Dorian's cue to steal the remote to resume the movie. He thought about it some more, but they were right. He wanted to help Cullen, it was only normal to know what exactly he was helping him for.

Merrill had suggested bringing Cullen to a meeting, they could exorcise him, but Dorian doubted he'd be in favour of that. Cullen was only accepting Dorian's abilities, he wasn't about to ask him to sit in the middle of witches.

 _Would you like to come over soon?_ Dorian texted Cullen a few hours later once he was back home, after they'd been texting small talk to each other. Cullen was still at work, doing some paperwork about the case they just closed. Dorian was glad to know all of the persons had been found dead or alive, but at least there was no remaining missing person.

 _How soon?_ Cullen replied with.

Dorian worked his lip while he thought, deleting his words a few times before he settled for something he preferred. _There's something I'd like to ask you about, so whenever you have free time, let me know._

He could easily imagine Cullen's chuckle, who barely had any free time to begin with, and usually he'd spend it with him. The thought made his chest warm.

 _Tomorrow?_ He wasn't asking him what he wanted to ask him, but perhaps he already knew.

 _Sure. I have a few appointments, but I'll be free in the middle of the afternoon._

 _See you then. X_

He realized he was grinning at his phone and promptly put it aside, making it a point to ignore Snoufleur's judgemental stare.

The next day, he woke up to quite the snowstorm outside. It was a pretty sight, and at least he didn't have to step outside that day. It felt like a cocoon had wrapped itself around his home and his shop, giving him the impression he was far away from everything if it hadn't been for the occasional honking cars.

He put on a slightly oversized thick green-gray sweater and fitting soft trousers with his usual rings, muttering the protection inscribed on them as he slid them on his fingers. He didn't bother with his contact lenses, instead doing his beauty routine and makeup before putting back his glasses on. He made sure his eyebrows and facial hair looked perfect, that he hadn't gone too far with the matifying powder and the contour. He blended his highlighter a bit better, then smiled at his reflection. His makeup looked a step above a natural effect, which what he was aiming for. Nobody had natural highlighted cheekbones, after all, not to this extent. He fixed his hair with a bit of product, but at this length he couldn't do much but let it do its thing. It suited him, but he needed to get a haircut.

His appointments of the day were all persons he already met except for one, but he wasn't nervous about it. They seemed very interested in their emails, that always was a good thing. Apparently they wanted to talk about their guardian angel, a concept Dorian was more or less believing in. He'd seen ghosts and spirits protecting people, but to say it was their guardian angel, he wasn't so sure. He wasn't rejecting the idea however, anything was possible in the invisible world after all.

Hours went by quickly after that, with him losing himself in his job and helping other the best way he knew of. The new customer proved to be very enthusiast even after he explained to them who he was seeing. Their parents had never mentioned twins, perhaps they hadn't even known, but it was their twin taking care of them through death.

He discovered he had a voice message later on. He hadn't heard his phone because he put it on vibration mode when he was working, and to be honest it was better this way when he saw who called him. He scolded at the caller's ID, but still called his own voicemail.

"Hello Dorian, it's your father. I just wanted to wish you happy holidays because despite what you might be thinking, I do love you very much." There was a pause, and Halward cleared his throat. "Happy new year, Dorian."

Dorian closed his eyes hard and titled his head back, praying his tears wouldn't come out. He had not been expecting that, he thought it would be another rant about how he wasn't in India to celebrate with him, how he could pay all his expanses if he decided to come over, bla bla bla. This was being too emotional for Halward. Perhaps he'd been drinking, or was trying new techniques to lure him out of his hideout. Well, this wasn't happening.

He took deep breaths, walking around his apartment to calm down with Snoufleur, and refrained his will to hit something. He instead went outside to put away his trash, shivering as a bit of wind hit him. The sight was pretty nonetheless, and he looked at the street, mostly quiet at this time of the day.

"Hey," he heard behind him, startling him. He turned around to find Cullen already there and quietly smoking outside his shop. It reminded him of a year ago, when they didn't know each other and Cullen presented himself as his brother to try and deceive Dorian. At the time he thought he was a bit of a jackass if an attractive one.

"Have you been here for long?" He asked, surprised he hadn't seen him sooner.

"A few minutes." Cullen smiled, putting his cigarette between his lips to take a last drag. He exhaled the smoke, his face hidden for a second, then stubbed it in the ash tray Dorian was keeping for him near the door. Dorian sauntered to him and led him inside.

"Come on, you must be cold at this point." He was, Dorian noticed when he helped him out of his thick coat. His hands were frozen, which made him suspect he'd been outside longer than a few minutes. Cullen was nervous, knew about the reason of Dorian's texts. The latter could feel the emotion as clear as water dripping from his fingertips. He wasn't nervous about telling him of his past, however, he was scared he would break once he relived his past.

Dorian drew a breath and looked into his amber eyes, his pupils wilder than usual, and pressed his warm hands on his cold cheeks, dragging his thumb along the edge of his scar. Cullen leaned into him, pressed their foreheads together.

"Tired?" Dorian gently murmured, sliding his hands down to his torso, idly remarking he was wearing a soft turtleneck. Cullen hummed under his breath, then pulled him into one of his infamous bear hugs. Arms tight around him, engulfing him in his warmth. Dorian's body fit against his, nose pressed under his ear where he smelled so good. He meant to ask about his perfume, but it wouldn't smell the same from the bottle.

"Long week. I'm happy to see you." Cullen replied against his neck, then pressed his lips there, right against his tattoo. It brought a smile to Dorian's face, then he felt his mouth drag up to his jaw, his cheek, and it finally met his in a sweet kiss. Cullen pulled on his bottom lip, licking it, then did the same for his top one, and Dorian tried his best not to melt right there and now. It was a good thing he was still pressed against him, but he was afraid it would become awkward if Cullen continued to do that. For someone who didn't kiss just anyone, he sure was a very good kisser, and they enjoyed each other's mouths before they pulled apart. Cullen's cheeks weren't cold anymore, instead they had a lovely flush all over them, and his eyes shone brighter than they previously had.

"I feel like an idiot for not doing that sooner," he said, adjusting his glasses for him. They were a bit crooked from their making out.

"I don't. You needed time, and I was alright giving it to you. I still am." He took his hand and pulled him upstairs to his apartment. Snoufleur was quick to rumble happily when she spotted Cullen, and he petted her while Dorian started making him hot chocolate and tea for himself.

"How was work?" Cullen inquired as he approached with Snoufleur in his arms. She was purring like crazy, but Dorian could see the shadow behind him becoming agitating. Dorian quickly let go of the spoon he'd been using to mix the cocoa powder and took her away. He didn't know if the entity wanted to hurt her or Cullen, and he didn't want to know either.

Cullen frowned at his gesture, then noticed the cat was staring at something behind him.

"It expanded," Dorian said, "it's feeding off something for sure. I took Snoufleur because it was becoming angry."

"Oh…" He finished himself to mix his drink, his movements slow, "Perhaps that's why I've felt more tired than usual. Drained would be a better word."

Dorian let go of his cat who ran away after a last glance at the entity. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Cullen scratched the back of his head, shrugging. "I thought it was because of work, not due to some invisible thing sitting on my head."

It wasn't sitting on his head per say, it was hanging unto his back, but Dorian wasn't about to tell him that.

"I asked to see you for that reason precisely. I've been searching for what could be the source of that little friend of yours, because it's honestly the first time I'm dealing with such a tenacious being, but…" He let his sentence in suspense, but Cullen understood and nodded in agreement.

"I know. I apologize it took so long for me to talk about it, it's always difficult."

Dorian was hit with mental nails scratching a board, and he shook his head. "It's alright. I won't judge you."

"I know," Cullen repeated. He carefully took a sip of his hot chocolate, savouring the taste, while Dorian leaned against the counter island.

"Do you have an idea of what could have originated in this attachment?" Dorian asked, crossing his arms. He was cold, goosebumps running along his arms, but he knew the room was supposed to be pretty warm. It wasn't a natural cold. He glared at the black mist hovering above Cullen's shoulder. It didn't have any real form most of the time, but sometimes Dorian would discern an arm or eyes and have the distinctive feeling of being observed.

"Can we sit down?"

"Of course." Dorian took his tea and Cullen's hand to lead him to the living room. They sat close to each other, Cullen's thick and muscular thigh pressed against his.

"So you already know I came to Canada a year ago and a half after I asked for a transfer," he began, scratching his stubbly chin. "The truth is it was my second transfer. I didn't start as a police officer, I was part of the SC&O19 at first, the Specialist Firearms Command of the UK. I liked adrenaline and being in dangerous situations so I could feel better about myself when I would succeed a mission. Ever since a kid, I wanted to feel like a hero." Cullen had a self-derisive laugh. "It didn't really turn out that way. Parents don't tell their kids about PTSD or any mental disorder related to that field of work."

Spider webs entwined a corner of his mind, and he was trying his best to clean the place up.

"It was supposed to be a simple mission – well, as simple as my work could be. Retrieve the suspects, neutralize the captors. We got in the location without a proper debrief, as time was key for this operation. We only knew that it was a band of amateurs who kidnapped the son of a politician."

"Was it safe, to go in like that?"

Cullen shook his head. "Anything but safe. The father was pushing for us to act faster. So… We headed in, found the captive bound and unresponsive, then me and three of my teammates went ahead to find the captors. We thought they were trying to escape, and even with the perimeter secured by the police, it was best to find them ASAP. The politician wanted to see the faces of who dared to defy him, or so were his words."

He swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate. His fingers were twitchy a bit, and the back of his neck was clammy with cold sweat when Dorian placed his hand there to stroke his hair in a soothing manner. "A few years later, I realize they used hallucinogen gas on us, but at the time it seemed very real. We were jumped by what appeared like monsters, huge beasts that we never expected. How can you expect a monster to jump on you anyway? I was knocked unconscious at some point, and that probably saved my life. When I woke up, I was in a daze, drugged my ass off, and my captors were doing something to my colleagues. It looked like some sort of magical ritual, chanting around their bodies and drawing something on them." He sighed and rubbed his eyes as if to clear the images in his head. "Details are fuzzy, but I know I was kept a captive for a while. One time I woke up and I was the one on the table. They performed rituals on me, tortured me for their own twisted pleasure, and I thought I was going to die by their hands once they had their fill of me. They were keeping me in some dark room with the corpses of my colleagues. I can still remember the smell…"

He lifted the bottom of his turtleneck to expose his muscular chest, but more importantly the tattoo on the left side of his ribcage, close to his heart. Three names, written elegantly : Beval, Farris and Annlise. Dorian wrapped him in his arms and tucked him against his chest. His pain was overwhelming, and Cullen hung to him with desperate hands. He didn't cry, but he was shaking, and Dorian whispered comforting words in his ear.

"It's okay, you're here now, you're with me, everything's fine."

The shaking slowly stopped, and Cullen's breathing calmed down. He turned his face into Dorian's neck, took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay."

"I've had to tell this story a few times, but every time, it's… and the fact something might have kept with me, has stuck itself or was put upon me is… terrifying."

And there it was. The glass was shattered, and Dorian was hit with what rushed through it. Fear, raw and pure and overwhelming. It swept everything and left helplessness with the deep feeling that everything was lost. It lasted only for a second, but it felt like an eternity for Dorian.

"I won't let it get to you."

"It's attached to me."

"I'll detach it." His tone was sure, reassuring. He would do anything to help him.

"I'm very grateful, I hope you're aware of it." Cullen squeezed him a little bit tighter.

"I am, I feel your emotions, remember?"

"That's true." He pressed a lingering kiss under his jaw and detangled his arms from him, quite reluctantly.

"What about the second transfer's reason?" Dorian asked him before he forgot.

"I spent some time in the hospital for my wounds. I spoke with a psychiatrist, but I refused any medical treatment regarding PTSD. I thought I wasn't traumatised, yet I was angry about everyone and everything. Those negative emotions helped me to continue living, or that's what I convinced myself of at the time. I was transferred to the police department, where I discovered my superior liked to use her teammates' traumas to control them. She used my anger for years. It took me years to see that, when I finally pierced through the angry veil I had formed around me. I had a friend in another department who offered help when I finally broke down."

He drew a pause, lost in his own memories. He was calmer now, back to the present. "It wasn't easy, but I took vacations on pay for a few months before I requested a transfer, this time far away. The person I had become under Meredith's command is not the one I'm most proud of, but the important is that I moved on. I'm doing much better than I used to, and I want to keep doing my best. I can't erase what I did, only decide of my future actions."

"It's true. You can change, no one's personality is defined in stone after all."

"Yeah, and I've been doing much better for the past year." Since they met. The blush on Cullen's cheeks was a tell enough that he was thinking the same thing, and Dorian kissed them both without thinking, liking the slight hitch in Cullen's breath at his gesture.

"I actually wanted to try something today, if that's alright with you," he said, leaning away before he melted against his side and never let go.

"What do you have in mind?" Cullen's eyes followed his movement when he adjusted his shirt, the collar giving an ample view of his collarbones and his pecs for a second.

"I'd like to talk with it."


	6. Splinters of souls

**The witchcraft described in this story was inspired by many hours of research but is not to be taken seriously.**

 **Chapter 6: Splinters of souls**

They took the time to make food and eat – well, Dorian watched Cullen get at ease in his kitchen while enjoying a cup of wine after he admitted that last time he cooked was a few months ago. Cullen liked cooking and Dorian liked watching him, so it was a fair trade. Cullen looked more relaxed than before, the burden of his story lifted off him, and some wine did help as well. Dorian did the dishes however, and then they went downstairs.

So they were doing this, Dorian thought as Cullen and him sat down at his séance table.

"Normally I would explain to you the process of the ritual, the risks involved and what to expect, but in this case…" he grimaced, "I don't want to say too much with your ever-present friend listening to our conversations, you'll understand. If you have any question, I will do my best to answer them, considering you've never done this before."

"I understand. Um, I actually read a bit on the subject. Witchcraft and the different rituals to call on the dead. Do you have much experience in this type of ritual?" Cullen's position on his chair was a bit rigid, his shoulders straight and his hands flat on the table.

"Yes, my expertise lies in communicating with the dead. As for the exorcists or the banishing rituals, however you prefer to call them, I did some of them in the past, but it's never typically the same every time depending what kind of entity we're dealing with, and a lot more preparations are usually required than what I'm about to attempt."

"How much more?" Cullen inquired, watching him light up a cone incense.

"Days, weeks… It depends again if I've already done that kind of work before and the level of knowledge I have on the ritual or the entity. I'm quite at ease with my psychic and medium abilities, so anything related to these barely require me any energy to use."

Cullen nodded, had a small smile. "I do recall you seeing through my lies within the minute of our first encounter."

Dorian chuckled. "Yes, this is my psychic side. I cannot control them all the time, but they're a good lie detector."

He aligned the crystals and the candles in the middle of the table, using real ones this time. Lastly, he grabbed his wand and his runes as well, just in case. Preparing the material for a ritual always helped to calm him and put him into that necessary mindset, and he felt it was even more important when his love interest was involved.

"I have something I'd like you to wear, it's somewhere here…" He needed to do a bit of cleaning when he had the time, all his talismans were tangled together in the drawer and that wasn't really useful nor did it look professional.

"What is it?" It was a simple golden amulet with a ward inscribed on both sides. Despite his question, Cullen tied it himself to his neck when Dorian presented it to him. The mist wavered, but didn't react in any way to the new protection, which meant it wasn't interested in possessing Cullen. This removed the theory that it might be a demon, but too many options still remained.

"It's a ward to protect you from possession, just in case. Is it alright if I record this?"

"Go ahead. Can I touch these?" He gestured at the minerals, then delicately grabbed the hematite, rubbed a rough side when Dorian agreed with a nod. "What are those for?"

"These are for protection as well, some of them gather natural energy and entities will feed off them and not our energy"

"And the incense?"

"The incense is to relax the mind and set the mood, if you will. This one is nag champa, a mix of different herbs to help myself concentrate for the ritual, and well, it's from my native country, so that's a bonus point. Now, tell me, not that I think this as a bad thing, but you seem very interested in this ritual."

Cullen had a small, shy crooked smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm rather interested by you, and therefore in your work."

"Oh." Dorian shot him a look through his lashes, smirking. "And here I thought I was the charming one."

Cullen made an assessment noise, a blush spreading across his cheeks and nose. and watched him as Dorian finally sat down. He felt his attention on him as he quickly centered his energy on himself, drawing a rune on his forearm with his wand.

"I'm starting now," he indicated to Cullen. He turned on the microphone at his acknowledgment.

When Dorian was seeing a ghost, it wasn't exactly "seeing" with his two eyes. It was more of an unconscious notion right behind his eyes. Some he could see with his eyes, yes, but it meant it was more powerful than ordinary ghosts. The entity hovering behind Cullen was a dark shadow, a trick of the light if one quickly looked, but it was much more when Dorian turned on his sixth sense. It was a mist in which he couldn't discern anything but a head, and he felt that whatever it was, it was dangerous. Dorian would begin with more of a cautious tactic with this one.

He focused his energy in his throat for a short moment before he was calling forward the entity. He didn't need to summon it, but he invited it with a gesture to feed from the energy off the minerals so it could state its name.

The mist didn't move. Dorian repeated himself with a neutral tone and stared right at it.

It took a moment, but it finally floated forward, stepping beside Cullen and hovering above the table. Dorian saw it the moment it fed itself with energy; Cullen shivered while the mist became more tangible, the form looking more human or elf than ever before.

 _I have no name._

"You don't recall, or you don't have one?"

 _No._

Well, at least it was replying to him, even if its replies weren't helpful. It had thoughts and a certain level of lucidity.

"Do you remember what you are?"

Arms stretched from the black mass and moved, and it seemed it was looking at its hands. It didn't answer, and Dorian repeated his question.

 _In the shadows you are always alone._

"Is this why you attached yourself to Cullen? So you wouldn't feel alone anymore?"

One of the candles extinguished itself, Dorian idly noticed as he kept his eyes on the entity. One of the crystals fell on its side towards Cullen, making a thud that startled him.

 _I healed them._

"Who did you heal?"

Cullen made a strangled gasp. He looked very pale from the other side of the table, his hands gripping it. He knew who the entity was talking about.

 _The world was oblivious to their passing._

Dorian frowned. Whose passing? It had to be related to Cullen, otherwise why would it attach itself to him? He was about to ask another question when Cullen did before him.

"Was it my brothers in arms? Beval, Farris and Annlise, was it them you helped?"

"You said those events happened a decade ago, that'd mean—"

 _Cullen._

The image of the entity distorted, shifted, struggled. It was so sudden Dorian leaned away, only years of expertise keeping him from jumping from his chair as every hair on his arms raised up. The entity was extending, the mist spreading as the head divided into two, then three, then four. Three out of them were moving, fighting to get away so hard in the Fade that it tumbled another crystal down, but their fight resulted in nothing. Three husks of a life were buried within that entity. Splinters of souls trapped into what had tried and failed to help them cross over, and in that attempt absorbed them instead.

"It helped them when they died, but their souls are stuck in it," he said to Cullen, then turned his attention to the entity. It was back to being one, more agitated than ever. "What are you?"

 _I don't remember. I wanted to help them, to help him, but I couldn't. Too much pain, hurt, it hurt so much._

"What is it saying?"

"It says it wanted to help you just like it helped the others, but it couldn't."

"By the Maker…" Cullen seemed like he was about to be sick. "I thought I was going to die back there... I might have, I don't remember half of what happened."

Dorian's face twisted at his words. So much he had to bear. He didn't delve into his mind to seek memories, he didn't want to intrude him like that and his head was beginning to ache. It was getting harder to control.

"Did you attach yourself to Cullen by accident?"

His next question was met with silence from the entity, but its arms flailed around. Dorian wasn't able to decipher if it was playing with them or not, so he quickly opened the pouch containing his runes to pick one at random. He opened his hand to Ansuz, reversed.

The rune was lifted from his hand and sent flying right on one of his statues behind him, narrowly missing his head. He brought his hand down more forcefully than intended.

"Enough of these games! Tell me what you are," Dorian commanded, struggling to stay still but ready to defend himself if needed.

"Dorian…"

"Stay where you are, Cullen."

It was a bit difficult to see his expression, but he was gripping the amulet hard.

 _I tried, but it wasn't enough._

"You wanted to help him but he didn't die, and you didn't know how to return to the Fade."

The fire of the candles grew, went too tall to be normal. _I lost my home because of him._

It had lost itself in its attachment to Cullen, waiting for him to die, but instead Cullen had continued to live, and it fed from all his negative feelings; his hate, despair; the nightmares. The spirit had been corrupted and became a mere shadow of what it once was.

"I have my answers." Dorian drew a rune in the air with his wand, muttered a spell to dismiss the spirit. It drained it of any gathered energy and forced it back into its usual weaker mist. Dorian didn't like when spirits threw things at him.

"I didn't understand everything that just happened," Cullen slowly said, with a shiver when the mist returned behind him, over his shoulder.

"I think it'd be best if I drew a ward on your neck to prohibit anything from draining your energy."

"I've trusted you so far. What are you going to use? – Hey careful there." Cullen got up on his feet to meet him when he saw Dorian sway as he rose up. "Are you okay?"

Dorian gratefully leaned against his solid side. "It's normal after a ritual. I just have a massive headache, it'll pass once I take a nap."

"Or more like when you go to sleep, it's late."

"Is it?" A look at his cellphone confirmed that it was indeed late. "Oh. About the ward…"

"I've trusted you so far, go ahead."

"Thank you." Dorian let go reluctantly of him to fetch a pen, his fingers a bit numb and his arms trembling. The ward was just a last push, and then he would some of that chocolate he bought a few days.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can't even stand."

"It's just one small thing. Can you lift your shirt for me?" Cullen turned his back to him and complied, the sight of his strong back pausing Dorian in what he was about to do. He shook his head and draw the memorised ward. It was something he used to draw all the time when he was working in retail, after he got fed up with people and ghosts stealing his energy. He couldn't stop himself from placing against it afterwards, right above a dimple, and if he left his hands linger a little bit longer, Cullen didn't complain.

"Can I see what it looks like?"

"Of course. What, you think I drew a penis?"

Cullen let out a surprised laugh. "Well, now that you mention it…"

Dorian took a picture with his phone and showed it to him. Cullen grunted in interest.

"It's the same thing than the amulet."

"Yes. I wouldn't mind you walking around with it, but I might need it for my work."

"For your work, right…" He removed it and gave it back, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I wanted to talk to you about that…"

Dorian only needed to glance at him to know what he wanted to say. "I don't want you to give me any money, if that's your next inquiry."

"I don't want to pursue, but are you sure? It's your job, and I understand that it's not because we're a couple that it means I don't have to pay you if it concerns your work."

"Is this what we are? A couple?" Dorian teased Cullen who became red. He smiled fondly and set another incense cone to burn to clean the area. He would need to do a proper cleansing ritual, but this would do for the moment. He was too tired for anything else. "I'm hoping we are," he added. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I want chocolate."

Cullen followed him to his apartment, leaning against the counter while Dorian rummaged in the cupboards. When Dorian looked behind his shoulder, he caught him ogling at his ass, which stirred something in his lower stomach. His eyes contained desire, but mostly fondness, warm and soothing. Dorian never had such eyes directed at him. He turned back to the cupboard, his heart pounding a bit faster, and focused on finding that chocolate.

"I wanted to help you before we were involved. I want to get rid of that thing perhaps more than you at this point, just for the excuse that I won't have to stare at it every time we see each other."

"I understand." Cullen didn't press the issue, but he suspected it wouldn't be the last time he brought it on.

"How are you feeling?" Dorian distractedly asked. His hand caught something wrapped in aluminium and he had a small exclamation.

"I'm fine but a bit weirded out, to be honest?"

"Understandable. It's not everyday you witness this."

"And also what it said. It somehow captured the others' souls?"

Dorian sighed as he finally took a square of dark, bitter chocolate. The taste alone gave him a boost, and he was eating half of the bar without realizing.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps not all of them, but enough that they can't cross over. I think the entity is a spirit of compassion who was corrupted because it was forced to stay in the mortal realm."

"Corrupted into what?" Cullen pondered for the both of them, a blond curl falling before his forehead. With his relaxed pose and Snoufleur curling around one of his ankles, he looked like he belonged here, in his kitchen; with him.

"I'm just too tired to think about it for the moment. I, uh… My request is going to sound silly."

"Tell me." Cullen pulled him forward with gentle hands, taking his free hand and kissing his wrist in an innocent display of affection which absolutely did not melt Dorian's heart.

"I really want to sleep right now, but I don't want you to be alone tonight in case something happens. Would you mind staying here for the night?"

"Oh!" His request took him by surprise, but he didn't let go of him. "Well… No, I don't mind. It's Friday, I don't work tomorrow anyway."

"Great. I'll go take a shower then."

Dorian didn't wait for a reply and skimmed off to the bathroom. He wanted to clean himself from today's energies, his skin felt heavy with the excess… then he stopped in his tracks when he realized how he probably sounded.

"I swear I didn't mean it like that," he quickly declared. Cullen hadn't moved, but he was beet red. Well, at least it meant he wasn't angry, but Dorian didn't want him to feel embarrassed. He grabbed his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "I'm going to shower because it's part of my routine when I do rituals, it's a mental cleaning process, I didn't mean I was going to shower because I want to have sex with you," he added, then groaned. "No matter what I say, I make it sound worse."

Cullen started to laugh at that, cutting his tirade. He felt offended, then realized that Cullen wasn't laughing of him, but with him. There was nothing to be offended about when Cullen leaned closer to capture his lips. He was tender, soft, but Dorian could feel a bubble of deeper emotions raising to the surface which made him grow warmer. He slid his hands up the solid lines of his torso and buried them in his hair, messing up the careful hairstyle. He teasingly bit on his lower lip before licking it. He tasted, felt so good against him. Cullen opened his mouth in response, and it was nothing soft anymore.

Dorian found himself lifted and sat on the kitchen counter, and he could only hang onto Cullen's broad shoulders with a huff of laughter. He wrapped his legs around his waist, their mouth still linked, and he didn't realize he had slipped a hand under his shirt to feel the soft skin of his ribs until Cullen suddenly slowed down. He turned their kissing to simple, soft wet pecks, and then he was stroking his cheek, his thumb tidying his moustache, which made Dorian smile. He was taking deep, controlling breaths, and Dorian let go of him, not without difficulty.

"Looks like we got carried away."

Cullen licked his lips, which prompted Dorian to jump off the counter and run off before he was jumping _him_.

"I'll lend you some pyjamas, I have plenty. Do you want to take a shower first?"

"If you don't mind."

"I wouldn't ask you if I did mind."

Cullen rolled his eyes at his sassiness, and Dorian chuckled. He found silken pants and a well-worn t-shirt and gave them to Cullen, then showed him how the shower worked – because he didn't want to be that asshole who let their friends scald themselves by accident – and gave him a spare toothbrush.

While he showered, Dorian fed Snoufleur, locked everything for the night and quickly tidied his bedroom. He was usually a clean person, but there were some clothes lingering around, the items on top of his dresser scattered around.

"It's all yours." Cullen emerged from the bathroom. The t-shirt was too small around his shoulders and clanged to his damp skin in a way that was all too distracting. He'd washed his hair, the damp free curls giving him a softer look. He noticed the bed all prepared for them. Dorian followed his stare.

"Is it alright?"

Cullen nodded, smiled. "Of course."

Dorian smiled back and headed for the shower himself. He couldn't help the doubt eating at him while he did his night routine. He couldn't remember the last time he had someone in bed with him. He had a few one-nighters here and there, but nobody who stayed long enough to spend the night.

His shower done, he wiped the fog from the mirror and removed his makeup, put on his moisturizer, and tried to tidy his wet hair, to no avail. Well, he looked good anyway and knew Cullen wouldn't mind. Cullen knew most of his secrets and hadn't ran away, he had no reason to be nervous.

He stepped out of the bathroom, careful not to disturb the duo on the bed once he took a sight of them. They were just so cute. Cullen was looking at his phone, installed under the covers already and propped against a pillow, his hand gently stroking Snoufleur's back who was stretched against his side, all purrs and soft paws kneading Cullen's thigh.

"I'm almost jealous," Dorian declared, his smile betraying his words. He plugged in his phone on its charger and went to look for his spare one for Cullen.

"Is she not allowed on the bed?"

"She is, but most of the time she ignores me and come to sleep until I'm already asleep. Well, I guess we have the same tastes. Here."

Cullen accepted the charger with a thank you and red cheeks, something Dorian was developing an addiction to. He slid under the covers, adjusted his glasses and picked up his phone to check his notifications. He scratched Snoufleur's leg and lower back. Sera had tagged him on another meme, and he was chuckling as he liked it and wrote a witty comment.

He turned his eyes and found Cullen was already staring at him, a soft smile on his face. Cullen leaned over him and kissed his cheek, his stubble making it all the better. He didn't move away, which probably wasn't the most comfortable position with the cat in the way.

"Thank you for letting me crash at your place."

"It's for safety reasons."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you let all your clients sleep in your bed."

Dorian chuckled. "You got me there. It's only available to my clients with a boyfriend status."

"Boyfriend… I like that." Cullen followed the lines of his tattoo on his arm, his touch warm and soothing. Dorian linked their fingers together, squeezing his hand.

"So do I."


	7. I can't pull the strings of death

**This is more of a casual chapter, mostly fluff and domesticity.**

 **PSA, because Ghost Aventures is my biggest inspiration for this story: Mostly all the episodes (the newest seasons anyway) are available to watch for free on Youtube!**

 **Chapter 7: I can't pull the strings of death**

Dorian rarely spent the night with whoever he was sleeping with. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but the idea of someone sharing his bed who could watch him sleep and waking up beside him felt too vulnerable. It was too intimate. Sex was casual, a bit of fun between two or more persons. It was quick – or longer, depending -, and then it was over and done with.

Cuddling had always been too much, touching and brushing just to enjoy the company wasn't something Dorian even considered. He just thought it wasn't something he deserved. He was a mess, his abilities to see ghosts and into people's mind just another reason he didn't want to get involved with feelings.

And now Cullen was wrapped all against his back, his leg entwined with Dorian's and the heaviness of his arm curled around his chest making him feel safe rather than trapped, his breath tickling the nape of his neck. He liked this, he liked having Cullen close to him.

He enjoyed the moment, not quite believing how good this intimacy felt. He definitely was a new fan of cuddling if it always was like this, wrapped in warm feelings.

That was until he opened his eyes and stared at the black mist hovering right before him, close enough to threaten him but not actually touching him. It was the first time Dorian was seeing it so far from Cullen, a few meters away from him. Dorian refrained from thinking too much that it probably had been there for a while, staring at him or whatever corrupted spirits did in their spare time. There wasn't much he could do about it, except ignore it, so that's what he did after he glared at it for good measure.

Dorian burrowed himself against Cullen, trying not to rub his ass against his front despite the temptation. Gently so he wouldn't disturb him, he linked their fingers together and brought his relaxed hand to his mouth to place a kiss along the knuckles, his heart fluttering at the gesture he now allowed himself to make. Such a small sign of affection, but Dorian had never been affectuous with anyone if it didn't mean sex, he'd been too afraid of what it might mean. Well, perhaps there had been some hugging with Felix, but he'd considered him like a brother, not like a boyfriend.

He was tempted to go back to sleep, but memories of the previous day came back to him, and he started thinking of a final, definite solution for Cullen. Now that he knew what the entity was, it would be much simpler to search or ask people of the field. The only thing was that he couldn't reach his cellphone from here, so he hoped he wouldn't forget to send messages later on.

Chaste, dry lips pressed against his neck. "Hi there."

Dorian smiled, twisted around so he could see that adorable, sleep-mussed face. "Hi yourself. Slept well?"

Cullen hummed in agreement, pulled Dorian even closer so he could lay half on top of him and tuck his head under his chin. Dorian snorted and carded his fingers in his soft curls, scratching his scalp. Who would've thought he wasn't a morning person? Cullen sighed happily, soft and warm and pliant against him, letting his hand brush his hair and explore his face, his neck, his broad shoulders and down his back through his shirt.

"I did," he mumbled against his skin. "I have to admit, you're making a nice pillow."

Dorian huffed a laugh, completely smitten. "Well I'm glad you think so."

He shifted a bit so he could wrap both his arms around Cullen. He couldn't help himself, he crept his fingers under his shirt where it had ridden up, touching the silky soft skin of his strong back.

They dozed off some more, until Dorian woke up to Cullen getting up for the bathroom. It was too cold without a warm body, and he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He sat up with a groan, reaching for his glasses and his cellphone. He had a few messages, emails, as per usual. He remembered he wanted to send a few of his own, notably to Merrill and Morrigan, the witch he previously worked with when Cullen and him had been invited to investigate a haunted prison – "The Ghost in the Cell", he liked to call the experience.

She wasn't part of a Circle and had most experience with ghosts, whereas Merrill was more used to possession by darker entities. What he hoped was that they all could work together and finally be done with the black mist. At this point, he was sure it was feeding off of him as well as Cullen, it wouldn't be so big and almost tangible-looking otherwise, so the sooner the better. Dorian had ghosts of his own who could visit him from time to time, he didn't want to imagine if one of them felt defensive of him, it would be a mess.

He swept his hair away from his face and fixed his moustache, wondering how he should word his request at Morrigan. She had a personality Dorian had yet to decipher, he rather wanted to be careful with her.

"Do you have food to make breakfast?" Cullen asked as he came back. His hair was a bit of a mess, Dorian's favorite hairstyle on him. He wanted to kiss him but was too self-conscious of his breath. He'd have to rectify that.

"I think I do. Otherwise we can pop in the supermarket, it's close by," Dorian replied before disappearing in the bathroom. He quickly did his morning routine and brushed his teeth, not bothering with putting on makeup.

"Can I borrow a shirt?"

"Sure, but don't feel obliged to wear one." He returned to the bedroom. "I wouldn't mind seeing you— Oh, that's nice."

He was wearing the dark green sweater Dorian wore when they'd gone to the dog café and Dorian was still helping with an investigation, with his jeans from the previous day.

"I doubt it looks as nice on me as it did on you." It was tight on his muscular chest, it would probably stretch it a bit, especially around the shoulders. Dorian padded to him, still in his pyjamas, and pulled that gorgeous man in a good morning kiss. Cullen carded a hand in his hair and responded in kind, his soft lips and tongue turning greedy. Dorian lost track of time as they exchanged kiss after kiss, somehow pushing Cullen until he was sitting on his dresser and Dorian was installed between his legs.

The thing with his abilities was he couldn't always control them, particularly when he was involved in certain activities. Kissing Cullen felt like a swirl of hot feelings was embracing him, and he knew those were Cullen's, making him clutch at him with need and desire. It was an odd but certainly not unpleasant sensation.

Dorian drew back, noticing with satisfaction Cullen's lips were now swollen and redder. He realized his hard-on was poking Cullen and promptly took a step back, embarrassed. As far as he could see or felt, Cullen hadn't had the same reaction from their kissing. "It appears we got carried away."

"I didn't mind." Cullen's soft expression reassured him, and he pulled him up and towards the kitchen.

"Let's see what I have to eat, otherwise I'll have to get dressed too, and it doesn't seem appealing."

Dorian barely had anything to eat in his fridge, to both of their display. Dorian got ready and they went out in the cold, hand in hand. Alright, so it wasn't as cold as Dorian liked to complain, especially when he was in such good company, and the supermarket was less than five minutes away. They took their time choosing what they wanted to eat, then half-heartily argued about who would pay and decided to divide the bill in two. Dorian felt like one of these couples he often saw and secretly jealoused, yearning for a similar contact with someone. He didn't like putting labels on things, as they rarely were completely black or white, but he dared hoped it was serious between Cullen and him.

They were returning home when Dorian saw an unnatural shadow by the corner of his eyes. They were in a rather quiet street with only a few other pedestrians at this time of the day, so anything paranormal was a stark contrast.

He looked around, unsure of what he'd seen. It was a flicker of darkness by the corner of his eye, which often happened, yet this one's shadow had seemed to suck in the light. Ghosts didn't influence ambient light, demons did. He instinctively clutched Cullen's hand as he checked around… and met the lifeless eyes of a demon. It was impossibly tall but very thin with dull grey skin, nude and without genitals from the little he saw. Looking at him made Dorian shudder as the hair on his arms raised with goosebumps. The demon quickly lost interest and turned around, shadowing an elf man who was on the opposite sidewalk.

"What is it?" Cullen inquired in concern. He hadn't let go of his hand, instead inspecting their surrounding for any threat.

"Nothing you can see. It's a fucking parasite." He began to walk faster, eager to put as much distance between the cursed person and them.

Cullen didn't ask questions. Dorian's shock must've written all over his face, for they put away the food in silence and he quickly started the coffee machine. It wasn't until he brought a streaming mug to him that Dorian realized he was cowered on his chair. All he could see was the eyes of the demon when it turned to him. There was nothing in them but pitch black evilness. What if it had begun to follow him instead? Or worse, Cullen? He shuddered and took a sip of coffee, the beverage burning his tongue and making him swear in annoyance.

"Careful, love. Do you want to tell me what you saw?" Cullen leaned on the counter and against him, his own mug sitting behind him.

Dorian sighed, looking down into his coffee. It was a light brown color. Cullen had put the exact amount of almond milk he liked and probably some maple syrup as well. Maple syrup was delicious, he knew it was kind of a big deal in Canada, and he'd quickly discovered why upon his arrival.

"Sometimes, when a person is about to die in a sudden, perhaps violent death, they are followed by a demon or an entity, I'm not really sure, who is able to smell that death. There's a few theories as to why, whether they could be the cause of that death or they want to steal their soul. Whatever it is, there's nothing anyone can do for these people except to run as far away from them as possible, because mayhem is about to happen. I tried to help in the past… it didn't work."

Cullen gently swept away his bangs, curling them behind his ear with careful fingers. "Has it occurred with someone you knew?"

Dorian nodded numbly, still not meeting Cullen's eyes. "A childhood friend and best friend, his name was Felix. He had this nasty demon following him for days, and I tried everything to put him to safety, but in the end, my efforts were vain. I wonder sometimes if I wasn't the reason he died. I learnt I can't pull the strings of death, I can only see them."

"I doubt you could've prevented it."

"Probably not. Every time I see those grey demons, it reminds me of the friend I lost."

Cullen kissed his temple, securing an arm around him. "I'm sorry. I can't even imagine how difficult it must be, to have to deal with the paranormal world while most people aren't even aware of it."

Dorian finally turned to him, pressing a kiss of his own on his stubbly cheek. "Thank you for understanding."

Cullen's stomach made a noise at that moment, and they both laughed. "Let's make breakfast, shall we?"

It was a lazy, calm day after the morning's event. Once they ate, they leisured in the living room to watch TV, Dorian curled against Cullen and Snoufleur on the other side. That cat had really gotten a liking in him. Like a good familiar, he had the same tastes than his master. Cullen didn't seem to mind the attention, instead playing with him and stroking his fur absently while he checked his cellphone.

Dorian had brought his laptop and was typing his email to Morrigan first. She wasn't really on social media and was more of an old-fashioned witch. Her website hadn't been updated since at least early 2000s, judging by the atrocious design, but at least there was an email attached to it. Hopefully it was still active, otherwise Dorian would need to contact Alim, the head of the Investigations crew, to get her number.

"Do you need help?" Cullen leaned his head against his shoulder, eyeing his computer's screen without being invasive.

"I don't think so, but thanks for asking. I'm used to describe weird stuff to people working in the same field. I'm emailing Morrigan, you remember her, right?"

"Yes, I do. She was nice, if you forget the glares and the sexual tension between Alistair and her. I liked her makeup."

Dorian chuckled. "I didn't know you liked the gothic style. It almost makes me want to give it a try."

"Any style would suit you, I'm certain."

Dorian brushed a hand against his thigh, glancing at him with a smile. "Flatterer."

Cullen had a sheepish smile, his cheeks reddening. "I'm just being honest."

"I know, and that makes you even more adorable."

He finished the email promptly and sent it. "Alright, now to Merrill. I mentioned her to you before, yes?"

"Vaguely." He offered an orange slice to Dorian's mouth, which he accepted. How more domestic could they be?

"She's the one I helped once to get rid of some creep, we've been friends ever since. She's a sweetheart, if you forget she's dealing into some occult stuff with her witch coven."

"What kind of occultism?"

Dorian scratched his stubble, frowning as he tried to remember the only time he participated in one of their assemblies. "I haven't made research on which gods they asked help from, so I couldn't really tell you. They had a chant for a deity, then one of them made a blood offering. It's fine for me as long as it's not animal sacrifices." He made a grimace.

"There's many more variants of witches than I though," Cullen stated with an incredulous voice.

"Yep," he said, popping the _p._ "Witches with a staff and flamboyant robes would be pretty obvious in modern society."

"And that Merrill is used to dealing with entities?"

Dorian quickly finished his message to her before turning to Cullen. "I have a plan to get rid of your friend. Yes, she's good with dealing with entities. She once told me about a possessed mirror she had and how she freed the demon inside… Anyway, she knows how to deal with that much better than I do, and Morrigan knows how to free ghosts, it's described on her website."

"And you have to trust everything said on the Internet."

Dorian laughed. "Stop sassing me. Many mediums and psychics can be charlatans, but you've seen Morrigan's abilities as well as I did."

Cullen nodded, and a small frown darkened his face. "You know I'll pay everything there is to pay, right?"

That earned him a scoff. "Cullen. You forget that I can see in your head. You think I only do this for you and that'll make you indebted to me, but truth is, I'm doing this for selfish reasons as well. Do you know how weird it is to wake up and be stared at by your boyfriend's invisible friend that's not so friendly? I like you, I really do, and I wouldn't want to lose you because of the past."

He happily sighed when strong arms pulled him against a muscular chest. "You're not selfish, Dorian. Whatever you may think of yourself, I don't see you that way. You're a good man."

Dorian didn't reply, but his tight grip was enough.

"I didn't think today would be for sappy confessions."

"You're right, let's watch something funny."

Merrill replied about half an hour later, in the middle of an episode of Archer.

 _I just finished cleaning and cleansing my apartment, it's funny that you're asking. So he's possessed by one entity possessing three ghosts? That's a lot of people for one bed._

Dorian couldn't help but laugh at that. Only her could write that sentence and make it appear innocent. _It's indeed a corrupted spirit. A group of cultists attempted to sacrifice Cullen in a ritual to call on some evil entity, or that's what it seems to me, but the ritual failed or was interrupted and somehow a compassion spirit that was helping ghosts travel was caught in the middle of it and was bound to Cullen instead. I recorded the session if you want to listen to it._

 _That'd be awesome, yes. If it's corruption we're dealing with, I can help. I'll only need a certain crystal that I ran of, and if he could provide some for me, it could be my payment._

 _Sure, what is it?_

"Merrill replied. She says she can help in exchange for an ingredient she needs."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "I doubt I am the most adequate to provide anything, but I'll do my best."

"We'll look together, I'm sure we can find it."

"Thank you." Cullen shifted to rest more comfortably against him. "What's the ingredient?"

Dorian frowned and pointed at the screen. "Have you ever heard of blue lyrium? It doesn't sound familiar to me."

Cullen tensed, his jaw setting. "I have. It's a drug."


	8. Happiness is not always to be punished

**Chapter 8: Happiness is not always to be punished**

"Step in here, if you will," Merrill instructed with a smile.

After a second of hesitation, Cullen stepped in the circle of salt that had been spread on the floor. He looked uncomfortable, to say the least, to be the central point of this ritual. It reminded him of a long time ago, when he was pinned to a table and surrounded by black masks.

Merrill placed large talismans on the four cardinal directions, muttering benedictions from her gods under her breath, while Morrigan put down cards with inscribed runes on them on the outside of the circle. At first she wanted to carve them directly in the floor, but Dorian proposed blank cards instead, not inclined to have a permanent reminder of Cullen's suffering.

Dorian wouldn't do much during the ritual except provide a place and maybe some energy if one of them needed it, but he was confident neither of them would require his aid. They were both witches, a long line of golden magic interlaced with their genealogy's blood. He himself had a few paranormal experts in his family, but he doubted the Pavus family kept a reminder of these less-than-valuable persons if he'd look for any information.

He'd known Merrill long enough to trust her, but it was Morrigan who he wasn't sure about. They'd investigate a haunted location together before, she knew what she was doing, but there was an oddity in her that unsettled Dorian. Every time he'd try to peer into her head, he couldn't get in. She kept a tall iron wall around her mind, piercing eyes staring at him, knowing what he was trying to do and obviously enjoying his frustration.

He doubted she had any ill intentions that day, particularly with how much she was being paid to do this, but he'd still keep an eye on her. It wasn't like he had another task at hand.

Cullen stood in the middle of the circle in a white tank top and navy jeans, his muscular arms crossed as he watched the women set up. Impatience was eating at him, as well as an anger he wasn't sure the origin of. Perhaps the attachment had been wearing on him more than he'd let Dorian on. He was wondering if he'd finally have more energy once this was over, if he'd feel the same, if things would remain the same… As if he realized Dorian's doing, he turned his head to look at him, and their eyes met.

"It'll be okay," he reassured him with a smile.

"Is that your psychic abilities or just you trying to convince me?" Nonetheless, he loosened his stance, his arms uncrossing.

"A little bit of both?" He carefully approached, mindful of not stepping on anything, and took his hands.

"Trust me, I've done this hundreds of times," Merrill said, cheerful. "Well, maybe not hundreds, more like a few dozens, but still, many times, and nothing wrong ever happened. Except that time with Marethari, but it was an accident, I swear I didn't mean to set her on fire."

"You set someone on fire while trying to get rid of a demon?"

"I wasn't the only one to blame, to be honest."

"That's… not very reassuring, Merrill."

"Spare us of your experiences for the near future, if you please, or until I'm gone," Morrigan added with an annoyed voice.

Cullen visibly thought the same thing. Merrill opened her mouth, but closed it again at the look Dorian sent her.

"I'm ready," Morrigan finally settled after a few more minutes.

"Me too, I just need the blue lyrium," Merrill added, jumping out of the circle. She'd been drawing runes on Cullen's bare arms and a last one on his neck, promising him they would wash away with water and soap.

"Blue lyrium?" Morrigan scowled, glaring at the other witch. "Why in the void would you need blue lyrium?"

"To transfer the demon's energies in it."

"Don't you know how dangerous handling pure blue lyrium crystals can be, especially when used for such purposes?"

Dorian frowned, understanding where Morrigan was coming from, but maybe it wasn't the best idea to discuss this in front of Cullen who was about to run away.

"I am an expert at handling lyrium, I've always used it in my rituals and nothing ever happened."

"Yet," Morrigan snickered.

"I thought you had discussed the details beforehand," Dorian carefully intervened, frowning.

"We did. She just didn't bother to mention how she would trap the negative energies."

Merrill sighed, annoyance playing for the first time on her otherwise adorable face. "You didn't ask, but yes, I did forget to mention it because I don't think it is harmful."

Dorian turned to Cullen who had paled listening to the exchange. They had this discussion a few nights ago on the phone, with details about when the ritual would occur. Of course Dorian had wanted to know why Cullen was so wary of the blue crystal, but Cullen had left before he could extract the answer from him. It had been the first time he'd witnessed him act that way, and frankly, he'd been a little upset about his reaction. He knew it wasn't because of him, but being ditched so quickly without an explanation always hurt no matter what.

Cullen had texted him that night, apologising, and promising he'd call him soon to explain himself.

"You're scared of blue lyrium," Dorian blurted, not taking any gloves.

"Yes." Cullen's voice was tired, exhausted even, which was alarming. When he first met him, Cullen used to be the kind of person who could sleep four hours a night and be full of energy still.

"Why?"

There was a sigh, and he could hear him fidgeting. "I thought you would've known by now."

"I don't. I don't dwell into your deeper thoughts out of respect, _priye_."

"And I appreciate it. Well, truth is I used to take it."

"Take lyrium? Really? You, the cop?" Dorian asked, chuckling.

"Back in London, one of my colleagues dealt in some shady business with lyrium dealers, he'd turn a blind eye in exchange of some of their merchandise. He offered it to me once, and I accepted just to try it out. I thought it might help with the nightmares."

"How did that turn out?"

"Not very good. Once turned twice, then thrice. Suffice to say I would've became addicted was it not for Cassandra."

"Precious woman."

"That she is. She forced me to stop using it, threatened to bring me to a detox clinic, but honestly, her alone was enough to scare me off lyrium. I luckily didn't take enough doses for it to become addictive, but I still dread its mention to this day."

"By what means do you think Merrill normally acquire some, if it's a drug?"

"Psychostimulant is only one of its functions. It's used in explosives as well and has magical properties, which I didn't believe until Merrill mentioned it. That's probably why dwarves are usually the ones handling it."

"And they like explosions."

"That, too."

"So… did you acquire a crystal?"

"Yes. They actually sell diluted version of crystal lyrium in stores, and they're quite expensive. No wonder Merrill asked one as payment."

"Sneaky witch."

The stone was in Cullen's coat, wrapped in a plastic bag. Handling it with his bare hands was odd, the crystal almost vibrating with contained energy when he grabbed it.

"How will you work with it exactly?" Dorian asked as he gave it to Merrill. She placed it on the table beside them.

"You'll see soon. Don't worry, I got this."

"Then let's begin. I have an appointment later," Morrigan said, adjusting her large necklace. Its golden details glinted under the candle's light.

"Alright. Hands, please." They positioned themselves around the circle and joined hands to gather their energy. Merrill closed her hands and took a deep breath before beginning her incantation in Elvish, a dead language that was rumored to have magical properties. Some of these rumors were true, depending on who used the language. There was a known elf, Solas, who had made his life goal to build back a full vocabulary.

Dorian's hands were sweaty in the other women's grasp. It was a first. He rarely worried when he performed a ritual, for he was confident in his abilities. Now, however, he couldn't do anything but watch from afar, letting the fate of his boyfriend in others' care. Ugh. How he wished he could do more.

His worry was of no good for the witches, however. He closed his eyes and focused instead on positive thoughts, thinking of an evening not long ago they spent together snuggling on Cullen's couch as they watched a movie. It was simple, but to Dorian, it was one of his most cherished memories for the happiness he had felt at that moment.

As if on cue, Merrill squeezed his hand gently before letting go, instead bringing it forward and lingering at the edge of the salt circle. Magic pulled around her just as Dorian felt something else manifest itself. The mist had been quiet so far, almost trying to make them forget it was there throughout their preparation. Now it was slowly creeping out, its form darkening as its curiosity got the best of it.

Pure ethereal beings, who never lived a mortal life, required a few more tricks to deal with, whereas a ghost was at its core a bundle of emotions linked to its past. The one performing the ritual could manipulate emotions to their whim with a bit of information, but a spirit with its own independent agenda was another story.

In this case, Cullen's demon was "corrupted" by the ghosts it had failed to transfer in the Fade, but it still remained peculiar to manage. Hopefully Merrill had planned this right. She seemed confident, switching to English now as she lured the mist to reveal itself so it became more visible. That meant it would have a foot in reality, and then she'd use the lyrium as a vacuum to collect the corruption out of the spirit. That was the plan anyway.

It seemed responsive so far. Dorian stepped back to the side to keep an eye on everything.

"Show yourself to us, _fallon_." She did something with her hands, and there was a sparkle. The mist stretched, came towards her but was stopped by the circle of salt.

 _You see me._

"I do. You've been trapped for a long time, weren't you?"

 _He was sinking. I drowned._

"You won't be able to help anyone while in this form. There's too much weighing you down. I want to free you, if you'll let me."

 _No no no no_

The demon bounced back and forth all around against the edge of the circle, Dorian watching with rapt fascination the way invisible matter prevented any breach. It was then it decided to latch unto Cullen instead, the mist enveloping his whole head. It was trying to suffocate him.

He couldn't see or hear it, but he definitely felt it. He bent over under its weight, swearing out loud and trying to get it off him.

"Uh-oh, it wasn't supposed to react like this."

"Merrill!" Dorian prompted, not liking how Cullen kept struggling while he couldn't do anything but watch.

"I know! I guess I'll just…" She made another complicated movement, then reached out and pushed her hand in the circle as she cast a spell. Morrigan made a groan of annoyance.

"Careful," she warned her, shifting closer.

"Nothing to worry," Merill replied, which was worrisome on its own. "Alright, come on now, off Cullen."

She pulled, and it finally came off with a soundless scream.

"I got it, I got it," Her hand gripped a tendril of darkness and yanked it towards her. Cullen gasped, turning around to face them and almost backing away from the circle in the process. Dorian reached out, not caring for his own safety, to stop him. He was up to the forearm in the circle, and the energy in there felt different, heavier, like pebbles on his skin. Dorian barely had slightly pushed Cullen back that he felt something wrap around his arm, squeezing so tight he thought it was about to rip it off. His first reaction was to yank himself away, but it was too strong. He gasped, gritting his teeth.

"Dorian, what's happening?" Cullen urged, not seeing anything but him struggling against an invisible force.

"Stay where you are, Merrill has this. Please tell me you got this."

"I got this," Merrill assured him, before she began reciting another spell.

Morrigan placed the lyrium in her free outstretched hand. Her eyes were wide, the green almost totally gone with how big her pupils were, her expression unsettling as she fought with the demon, and Dorian could feel his own energy draining with every second. She pulled, and the demon pulled back, but her strength was infinite. Just as Dorian began to see black spots and felt like he was about to faint, the attachment broke and freed both Cullen and his arm.

Dorian brought Cullen out of the circle, just as Merrill began her spell to force the demoniac residues in the lyrium crystal.

"Are you okay?" Dorian inquired quietly, barely realizing when Cullen made him sit down. He was exhausted, drained almost to the brim.

"I think so, but you're clearly not. By the Maker, you're bleeding." Indeed he was. Three long gashes ran along the inside of his arm, not too deep but enough to bleed and mess up his jeans. It was also terribly throbbing, the pain running in his whole arm.

"Don't move, I'll get something." Cullen quickly disappeared, not looking like he'd been at the center of a ritual just now. Dorian watched the blue crystal turn red in Merrill's hand, trapping the demon inside. All that remained was the spirit and the three ghosts, finally free of each other. They weren't lost anymore but hopeful.

He was a little surprised when Snoufleur jumped on his lap, purring and staring up at him. Dorian had made sure to keep him locked upstairs, so he wouldn't be hurt during the ritual, but he somehow had escaped.

 _Don't overdo it, my friend._ A gentle hand on his shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat. He recognized that voice.

"Felix?" He looked at his side, but there was nothing.

 _You thought I was gone forever?_ Dorian looked down and in the eyes of Snoufleur, unblinking and the same color as Felix's.

"You're watching me through Snoufleur," he stated, a bit numb.

 _Sometimes, when I think you need a hand. Now is one of those times._ At his words, he squeezed his shoulder, smiling down at him, and Dorian smiled back, some of his energy returning.

"Here." Cullen pressed a wet cloth against his wound to stop the bleeding, his hand warm and real in his.

 _You'll be okay now._ Felix nodded at him one last time, his form slowly disappearing.

"Thank you," Dorian said before he was totally gone.

"It's nothing, really." Cullen pressed a little harder, his lips in a thin line. "Barely nothing happened to me, it was you who had to be hurt by this thing."

"Not much harm done. Let them finish first, alright?"

 _I made myself forget, but no more veil now. I want to go home,_ the spirit was saying, its voice distraught.

"And we'll send you home, we'll all send you home" Morrigan assured it and the ghosts bundled together, getting her wand out. It was a beautiful object, dark wood with a ruby at its tip and a dangerous aura surrounding it. She focused her magic forward, opening a portal in the circle. Spirits and ghosts both lived in the Fade, and she prompted them forward. The ghosts instead looked at Cullen. They wanted to tell him something.

"Speak, and I'll deliver your message," Dorian assured them.

 _Don't dwell into the past's wounds anymore, for they won't ever heal if you do, Rutherford. What happened wasn't your fault, it just happened and no one could have prevented this._

Dorian relied the message, noted how Cullen's face relaxed at the nickname.

"That's… that's good to know."

"You already knew it," Dorian gently stated. Their message delivered, the ghosts of Cullen's coworkers went into the portal. Beval, Farris, Annlise. The spirit stood in the middle of the circle, its aura a soothing blue, none of the red remaining. It turned towards him, and Dorian knew it was looking at him.

 _Happiness is not always to be punished nor to become a sorrow._

The ghost's form flickered, then faded as it went into the portal. Morrigan made a small movement with her wand, igniting a purple light, and the portal closed.

Cullen gently turned his arm so he could disinfect the wounds, and when he turned back to him, he discovered he was watching him intently instead of the women at work. "I can't see what's happening," he explained, "but your expression give much more away." He gently trailed his fingers in the inside of his wrist.

Merrill let out a big exclamation. "Well, that was exciting."

"You almost let a demon loose," Morrigan reprimanded her, an annoyed look on her face. It seemed to be her permanent expression, truth be told.

"It worked, is what matters," Dorian replied, watching Cullen wrap a bandage around his arm. Hopefully it wouldn't leave any scar. "How do you feel?"

Cullen secured the white gauze with metal clips. "I… I'm not sure. Not that different, to be honest. Mostly tired, to be honest, which seems to be a recurrent event in my life lately."

"Hopefully for the last time. You can go lie down in my bed, if you want, while we clean up here."

Morrigan's payment had been dealt with before the ritual and he'd given Merrill her crystal, Cullen didn't have to remain down here if he wanted. The exhaustion in his eyes prompted Dorian to gently push him towards the stairs. It was an odd but welcoming sight to see him without a black mist at his back. Whether he was aware or not, his shoulders weren't slunched anymore.

"Thank you, to the both of you," he said with honestly, and waited for the witches to nod at him before heading upstairs.

Merrill began to cleanse while Morrigan put away their material and Dorian vacuumed the salt.

"The corruption of the spirit was powerful," Morrigan commented after a moment.

"It was attached to Cullen for years."

"How painful it must've been, for all of them."

Dorian shrugged, not particularly inclined to pity that demoniac mist. "What will you do with the crystal now?"

"Hopefully get rid of it?" Morrigan inquired as well, zipping her bag before she wordlessly helped Dorian to blow on all the candles and put them in the designed drawer. There was more to her than her harsh exterior, that was for sure, and Dorian wondered how she had come to present herself that way. When she turned her golden eyes at him, he had a glimpse of a silver-haired woman with the same eyes, before he blinked the vision away.

"Yes, I will. No one needs to have a demon bent to their will, do they?"

"No, they don't," Morrigan replied, her brows furrowing in a somber expression. Merrill was moving around the room, drawing runes in the air with her fingers, much like Dorian had done in Cullen's house so many months ago. He wouldn't need the protection anymore, except for whatever Dorian brought with him.

"I forgot to ask you, how are things with the investigations?" He asked her.

"Good. We signed a contract to make a webseries."

"Oh, congratulations." Dorian smiled at Morrigan, who appeared to not know what to make of it. She blinked, then finally nodded goodbye to the both of them and was off.

"Let me know if there's anything in the following days, alright?" Merrill said, her bag looking heavy on her frail shoulder.

"I will, thank you." They hugged, then he found himself alone in his shop. Well, maybe not completely.

He picked Snoufleur and gave her a kiss. "Thank you, precious familiar. Come on, let's head upstairs."

When he entered his bedroom, Cullen was sound asleep, curled on his side. Dorian gently put the cat on the bed before crawling under the covers and resting his back against the bed head beside Cullen.

"Hey you," Cullen mumbled after a few seconds, turning and using his lap as a pillow. Dorian smiled at the gesture and carded his fingers through his soft curls, massaging his scalp.

"Hi. Go back to sleep, _jaaneman_."

"I was talking to Snoufleur, not you."

Dorian snorted, watched as the cat curled herself against Cullen's side, purring softly. Cullen quickly back fell asleep under Dorian's ministrations, his arm wrapped around his thighs. His face was relaxed, content.

Perhaps it was true, Dorian thought, not every happiness was meant to be punished.

 _ **Fallon**_ **: 'Friend' in Elvish  
** _ **Priye:**_ **'Beloved', 'Darling' in Hindi  
** _ **Jaaneman**_ **: 'love of my heart' in Hindi, literally 'soul of me'**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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